Honor And Fealty
by El Chacal
Summary: Dacey Mormont takes Longclaw to Castle Black and then journeys to Winterfell to declare her fealty to Robb Stark and restore honor to her house. Robb/Dacey, Jon/Lyra, Bran/Lyanna (friendship). Some pairings are subject to change.
1. Bear Island to Castle Black

Honor And Fealty

By El Chacal

Disclaimer: Don't own anything except the idea for this story and my imagination. Not making one dime off of this. Do not sue. Thank you.

* * *

In the dark of night, Dacey was taken to the godswood in Mormont Keep by her mother, the Lady of Bear Island, Maege Mormont. Kneeling before the heart tree, the she-bears prayed together. When they finished praying, Maege took from her side the ancestral sword of House Mormont, Longclaw, and gave it to Dacey. "Take this to Castle Black. The Old Gods have spoken to me in dreams. The one who proves himself will make himself known on the Wall."

"The Night's Watch once held men of nobility and honor. Now it is a rag tag group of outcasts, beggars, orphans and criminals desperate to escape the executioner's block." Dacey protested. "Apart from Uncle Jeor, what man there is fit to even touch Longclaw's hilt? It should be held by a Mormont sworn to the North."

"Which Mormont do you see fit to wield Longclaw? You?" Maege Mormont asked. "The Old Gods have spoken to me about you as well, Dacey. You carry more than an honor-bound fealty for the prince of Winterfell." Upon the silence from her eldest daughter, Maege gave Dacey her task. "Go to the Wall. Take Longclaw to Jeor and seek his counsel."

Dacey knew not to shirk her duties in the presence of her mother. "Yes, mother." As she took Longclaw in her hands, Dacey meekly asked, "Shall I take a barrel of ale with me? Jeor would love a taste of home."

Maege hugged Dacey close. As tough, hardened and thick skinned as she could be, Dacey Mormont possessed a heart as big as the North.

At first light, Dacey landed upon the mainland of Westeros. With the aid of House Glover, Dacey acquired a cart on which to carry her load and a pair of mares to pull it towards the Wall. Galbart and Robett Glover fed her with bread and salt as was the guest rite custom but made sure she had a stein of northern ale before she set off for Castle Black.

Her cargo consisted of casks of beer, meats, sacks of potatoes and Longclaw, which was safely tucked out of direct sight. With a warm cloak with bear's fur lining her shoulders, Dacey Mormont traveled through the Wolfswood, up the Kingsroad, past Last Hearth, the stronghold of the Umbers and through the Gift.

The further north she ventured, the colder it got until she found herself at the doorstep of Castle Black, the primary stronghold for the Night's Watch.

Maege Mormont sent a letter to Maester Aemon telling him of Dacey's arrival to Castle Black. So when the young she-bear arrived, the gates were opened without delay and she was greeted warmly by the elder men of the Night's Watch. The moment she stepped upon the training grounds, the Night's Watch was divided into two groups.

The first one held respect for her, their Lord Commander and the North.

The second one whispered mockeries of the North and the many ways they would have made a she-bear howl.

Whatever words were whispered between the fledglings and the seasoned Black Brothers were silenced immediately upon the arrival of Lord Commander Jeor Mormont.

Having grown up in a military household, Dacey kept her emotions hidden when her uncle stood before her. "Lord Commander Mormont." Dacey addressed him with a bow of her head.

"Lady Dacey." Jeor Mormont responded in equal stoicism. "Come join me in my chambers. You have traveled a long way and I'm certain you have need of rest." With a side glance to the nearest steward, Mormont growled, "Tend to my niece's mares and handle the items in the cart with care."

Dacey quickly moved to the cart before anyone else could reach it and extracted the most important item. The Old Bear recognized what she had in her hands instantly.

After accepting the parcel which he knew was the Valyrian bastard sword of his father, grandfather and ancestors, Jeor Mormont escorted Dacey to his chambers.

Once the door to his chambers were closed and it was just the two of them, Jeor embraced Dacey warmly with a bear hug. "It's good to see you again, Dacey."

"I missed you, Uncle." Dacey spoke, her head buried in Jeor's neck.

"UNCLE! UNCLE!"

The moment was broken when Dacey heard Jeor Mormont's raven cawing from his chair.

Releasing each other from their bear hug, Jeor poured two large mugs of beer for himself and his niece. They spoke of Bear Island and Dacey's sisters (Alysane, Lyra, Jorelle and Lyanna) at first. It then led to Jeor telling Dacey about the state of affairs for the Night's Watch.

"Was it worth taking the black?" Dacey asked. "I had faith is Jorah. I believed him to be ready. Not even the wisest of us can anticipate everything."

"I had not know what Lynesse Hightower would do to him at the time, I should have trusted my suspicions enough to tell Jorah to get rid of that southern gash long before they married."

"Terrible things have a way of happening in spite of our best attempts to prevent them. You could no longer foresee a disgrace to our house as you could prevent a blizzard. Jorah made his decisions and has paid for them."

"He made his decisions and we had to pay for them when he turned craven and fled Westeros." Dacey snapped.

Laying a hand on Longclaw, Jeor asked, "Did you choose to come here or did my sister send you?"

"I had hopes of coming onto the mainland for a while now. This was a good reason as any."

"Something troubles you. What is it? Speak."

"SPEAK!" The raven spoke.

"Some time ago, I received a raven from Winterfell. It appears that Lord and Lady Stark are arranging a betrothal between Robb and Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden."

"Envy has never suited you, Dacey. The she-bears of House Mormont never had to compare themselves to anyone much less a girl from the Reach. What troubles you?"

"The last time a southern bitch crossed the Neck into the North, she brought shame and disgrace with her." The grief and anger Dacey bore for Lynesse was motivation enough for when she trained with her longsword and mace.

"BITCH! BITCH! BITCH!" Mormont's raven cawed.

"If I had any say in the matter, I would go to Winterfell and stand by Robb the way I should have stood by Jorah. In doing this, perhaps I can wash away the shame from our house by making sure the heir to Winterfell does not lose true north."

"NORTH! NORTH!" The raven parroted.

"Somehow, I sense that you are looking for more than just redemption for our house. Why does it concern you who Robb Stark shares his bed with?"

"STARK!" The raven cawed again. Jeor threw a fistfull of corn at the bird to shut him up.

Dacey's jaw was squared and her eyes hardened. "Dacey, do you love him?"

"The Southerners don't give a damn about the North or any Northerners in it. You know it just as I do. Most of all, I don't want to see the shame that fell upon our house fall onto House Stark." Dacey Mormont spoke evasively.

"Catelyn Tully was herself born a Southern lady who kept to the Faith of the Seven long before becoming Lady Stark. If not for her marrying Lord Eddard Stark, Robb Stark and his siblings would never have been born. It may be difficult to grasp for you but not all Southerners are evil incarnate."

"What do I do then, Uncle? Tell me. I can not argue against the betrothal. I can not order Robb to turn away from his duty. At the same time, I can not stand by and do nothing while some flowery cunt destroys House Stark."

"FLOWERY CUNT!" The raven cawed until Jeor threw a fistful of corn that knocked the bird right off the table.

"What are you to Robb Stark?" Jeor Mormont challenged.

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation before she could respond. Walking to the door, Jeor opened it to find First Ranger Benjen Stark standing before him. "Lord Commander, am I interrupting?"

"What do you wish to ask me, Benjen?"

"I wish to speak with you about going south to Winterfell."

"Enter." Jeor said, stepping to the side so Benjen Stark could enter. It was a surprise for Benjen to see Dacey Mormont in the Lord Commander's chambers but a welcome one. "Lady Dacey Mormont. It's not every day when the Night's Watch is graced with a lady's presence. To what do we owe your visit?"

"I came to speak with my uncle, First Ranger Stark, among other things." Dacey spoke, glancing at the Valyrian bastard sword of her ancestors as it lay wrapped up on the table.

Lord Eddard Stark's younger brother bore the map of the North upon his visage. If he had not taken the black and proved himself to her, Dacey probably would have wed Benjen before a heart tree. Unfortunately, he was now a sworn brother of the Night's Watch, which meant he could not take a wife, hold any lands, father any children and would be bound to the Wall until his death.

"Lord Commander Mormont, I have received word from the Warden of the North that there are new recruits for me to send up to Castle Black. With your permission, I will travel to Winterfell in order to see these new fledglings myself."

"You have my permission on the condition that my niece accompany you to Winterfell." Jeor spoke, turning his eyes to Dacey as he continued speaking. "She has affairs of her own to settle."

Benjen looked to Dacey and said, "We shall set out for Winterfell at first light tomorrow. In the meantime, I invite you to dine with myself, Maester Aemon and Lord Commander Mormont."

"I accept your invitation, First Ranger Stark." Dacey said with genuine courtesy and gratitude.

* * *

Upon leaving the Lord Commander's chambers, Dacey was approached by one of the Black Brothers who asked her to visit the rookery.

When she reached the cages where the ravens were perched together, Dacey was greeted by the old maester who, in spite of being completely blind, chopped up entrails and dead meat for the birds to feast on without accidentally striking his own fingers.

"Lady Dacey Mormont, I presume?" He spoke in her general direction.

"Yes, I am. I was told to come here. I did not expect to see you until later tonight."

"To be fair, I did not expect to speak with a woman in Castle Black. You are a delightful surprise." Holding out a bucket, Maester Aemon asked, "Would you help me feed the ravens?"

"Of course." Dacey responded, accepting the bucket and filling it with the meats and entrails.

"You are not squeamish at handling such feed. Then again, I should expect no less. The women of Bear Island are very unique in their ways if I may say so."

"You just did and I would agree." Dacey spoke as she threw the visceral feed to the ravens. "We are nothing like any others that have come before us or after." The pride in her voice was clear as day and thicker than fog.

"Like the bear that stands as your house's sigil, I imagine the women of Bear Island are very protective of their young. Would the same care fall to wolf pups?" Maester Aemon asked as Dacey threw food into the cages.

"What of it?" Dacey asked sharply. It had been years since she had last stood before Maester Aemon.

"Your mother wrote to me. No one else knows, including the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch." Maester Aemon revealed as he walked closer to Dacey. "You care for Lord Stark's eldest boy. I know. Do not waste an old man's time by trying to deny it."

"What does it matter to you?" Dacey asked.

"The bear pledged his service and fealty to the wolf many years ago and it is a testament to House Mormont's commitment that such a pledge stood the test of time."

"The Mormonts have sworn their might and service to the Starks. Never once have we shirked the call of duty."

"Is it out of such fealty that you are so concerned with who Robb Stark weds? Has Robb or his lord father called House Mormont to court?" Maester Aemon asked rhetorically.

Dacey sighed and that was all the answer Maester Aemon had to hear. "Lord Commander Mormont has spoken with me about his son, your cousin, on several occasions. He spoke of the shame and disgrace Jorah brought upon his house. Do you have such fears that the same fate could befall your liege lord?"

Dacey slammed the empty bucket on the table. "I've fed your birds. With your permission, Maester, I will take my leave."

"Dear child, do you truly harbor such contempt and scorn for the South?"

"Why shouldn't I? The Andals cut the weirwood trees, mock the Night's Watch and take a flowery shit all over everything we hold near and dear in the North."

The anger in Dacey's voice was clear as a bell and Maester Aemon swore she almost started roaring like a bear. "Do you plan to visit Winterfell in the near future, Lady Dacey?"

"Yes, I do." Dacey answered.

"Go to the ancestral seat of House Stark, seek out the Young Wolf and say your peace. Whatever happens, whether he tells you to return to Bear Island or stay at his side, do your duty."

Dacey nodded her head before walking away from the blind maester.

Upon first light of the morrow, after breaking her fast with Lord Commander Mormont and Maester Aemon, Dacey Mormont and Benjen Stark made the long journey down to Winterfell.

* * *

A/n: It is a work in progress but the basic idea is that King Robert will not be able to betroth any Starks to Cersei's 'children' (Joffrey, Myrcella or Tommen). Among the other stories to come after this one will be the betrothal of Sansa Stark and the betrothal of Robb Stark. Before anyone asks, I'm 100% in favor of the North over the South. The Boltons are the traitors of the North. In the spirit of this story, the Red Wedding never happens. The direwolves are all alive and the Starks reign over the North.


	2. Northern Resolve

Chapter 2: Northern Resolve

* * *

Lyanna Mormont spent four days on the mainland with House Glover before she came across Robb Stark and Jon Snow by happenstance during a walk through the Wolfswood. She regarded Robb Stark with the utmost respect and though he did not wear the crown of his ancestors, she saw him as her King of Winter. As for Jon Snow, Lyanna did not think less of him because of his bastard name. In contrast to how many others treated him, she hugged Jon and gave a kiss on his cheek. Those gestures went a long way in brightening his mood, which was sullen on his best days and bordering on melancholy on his worst.

Robb Stark cordially invited Lyanna Mormont to stay in Winterfell. The youngest daughter of Maege Mormont accepted wholeheartedly. Only after sending a raven to Bear Island and having received permission from the Lady of Bear Island did Lyanna Mormont ride out to Winterfell with Robb Stark and Jon Snow.

Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn welcomed her to Winterfell even as Lyanna greeted Theon Greyjoy with a punch to the face when he mockingly bowed to her. For an 8 year old, the little bear cub was strong.

Though he would not tell anyone out loud, Bran Stark was drawn to the Mormont women for a long time and Lyanna had his attention perhaps most of all.

Rickon just thought Lyanna was nice.

As for Arya, she found a best friend for life in Lyanna Mormont.

Jeyne Poole, Beth Cassel, Sansa Stark and Septa Mordane did not have much in the way of patience for Arya's rebellious antics on any given day. With Lyanna Mormont at Arya's side, there was never a dull moment, which meant trouble for Mordane.

Though they were both adventurous in spirit, only one of them was capable of having diversity. Arya's embroidery of her house's direwolf sigil and words WINTER IS COMING were a bit shaky. Lyanna Mormont was able to stitch the bear sigil of House Mormont and the words HERE WE STAND spot on with a steady hand without so much as a drop of blood shed.

"Septa Mordane, it's a beautiful day outside. May Arya and I go out and play in the courtyard after we have finished our embroidery?" Lyanna asked out of courtesy.

Lord and Lady Stark warned her about the obstinate, strong will possessed by the she-bears of House Mormont. From that warning, Septa Mordane did not expect Lyanna Mormont to be well mannered and well spoken. She imagined her to be as unruly and savage as Arya.

"Arya must lean how to be a proper lady. This is not Bear Island where women take up arms like savages. This is Westeros. Though I am surprised you can sew as well as you have."

"My mother taught my sisters and I how to sew and embroider herself." Lyanna retorted as she stood up and matched Mordane's stare without backing down. "We are not in Westeros, Septa. Gods be good, we are certainly not in the South. We are in the North. Arya and I are of the North, where our ways, while savage and uncivilized to you, is proper for us." Lyanna said with such courage and conviction that Arya smiled while Sansa, Beth and Jeyne frowned.

"Lyanna, the North has been part of Westeros since the Dawn Age. You may have learned how to do embroidery well but you have a long way to go before anyone could call you a proper lady." Sansa said with a condescending tone.

"That sounds like something a southern trout would say, Lady Sansa. If being proper means looking and sounding like a chirping bird with clipped wings, I will not mind being called a savage." Lyanna spoke in such a way that Arya had to cover her mouth with her hand to muffle the laughing fit threatening to erupt from deep within her. Before Septa Mordane could admonish her, Lyanna switched back to her polite voice.

"If I help Arya stitch her house words and sigil properly, can she and I go to the godswood for prayer? Even us Northern savages have faith."

Septa Mordane took a moment to think it over and nodded. "Very well. If you can succeed in helping Lady Arya Stark complete her task, I will allow you both to go pray in the godswood."

Lyanna Mormont sat next to Arya Stark and began helping her with the embroidery.

Septa Mordane did not believe in Lyanna Mormont's abilities and thought such a feat could not be done. A moment later, Septa Mordane regretted making such a wager. The task was accomplished. With Lyanna's aid and guidance, Arya stitched the direwolf and her house's words successfully. What made it a thorn in Septa Mordane's side was that a northern girl of eight years succeeded where she failed.

Placing the embroidered direwolf of House Stark next to the embroidered bear of House Mormont, Lyanna pulled Arya up to her feet and they hugged each other.

Turning back to the Septa, Arya Stark and Lyanna Mormont gave a curtsy in defiance to Septa Mordane before they took off through the door, laughing all the way.

* * *

Kneeling before the heart tree together with the poise of warriors, Arya and Lyanna prayed to the Old Gods for Septa Mordane to fall face first in a pile of horse dung and then for forgiveness for wishing such a thing on someone even if they had it coming. They prayed for their loved ones who had passed on and those still alive. Arya had a branch in hand that she pretended was Ice, the ancestral Valyrian greatsword of House Stark. Lyanna had a branch in hand that she pretended was Longclaw, the ancestral Valyrian bastard sword of House Mormont. As they finished their prayers, Arya spoke a silent wish that she thought of for a long time.

"Lyanna, can I be fostered on Bear Island? I can not stand Sansa, Septa Mordane and my mother's attempts to make me some lord's wife. I don't want any of that. Sometimes, I wonder if my life would have been better if I was a Mormont like you."

"Do not speak such nonsense, Arya Stark. To be born a Stark is both a privilege and a duty. Your house has governed the North for many years. From what I've been taught and all I have read, the Kings of Winter did not possess silver tongues. A lot of what Septa Mordane teaches you in ways of sewing and embroidery is what you can also expect from my sisters and my mother. The same amount of time and energy we put into learning how to dress wounds, hunt for food and train with weapons for combat is what we put into learning cookery, embroidery, raising a family and keeping house." Lyanna said, remembering when she would watch Dacey skin and cut her kill while Alysane was tending to her two children. Lyra and Jorelle would sharpen blades and whittle arrows one minute and then commit the same time spent on weapons to their studies. Then the five of them would go before the heart tree for prayer until it was time for supper.

"I would love to see you fostered with us, Arya, but if your father objects to it, it will not happen. Even if you don't say it out loud, you would miss your lady mother and sister." Lyanna said objectively.

"Think about it, Lyanna. We would ride out through the woods together before the sun rises, do our studies in the morning after breaking our fasts, spar in the midday, sew in the last hours before sunset, dine in the evening and prayers in the godswood before bed."

"The way you say it, I'm started to hope Lord Stark gives you his blessing and permission to be fostered on Bear Island." Lyanna said with a smile on her face.

"What about hunting?" Arya asked. "Will we get to do that?"

"The both of us still have a long way to go before we can go hunting. My mother has only taken Dacey, Alysane and Lyra hunting because they were old enough and strong enough to do it. More than likely, we'll be stuck taking care of Alysane's children with Jorelle while she, Lyra and Dacey go hunting with Mother." Lyanna said. "If your father agrees to it, I would be honored to have you live with us on Bear Island."

Arya held Lyanna's hand in hers. "We may be of different houses but as Northerners, we are sisters, you and I."

Lyanna hugged her and whispered into her ear, "The Mormont women are never betrothed to anyone. We choose who we want to marry and it's them who must prove themselves to us. I hope Bran is up to the task."

Arya was more than surprised at what she heard. Lyanna looked at her friend and smiled. "He is cute and kind but I will not go easy on him. If he proves his worth and holds his own against me, perhaps one day I will wed him. On that happy day, Arya Stark of Winterfell, you and I will truly become sisters."

* * *

Upon returning to the courtyard, the girls were met by a surprise.

Direwolf pups.

Eddard Stark returned from the execution of deserters. Among those with him were Rodrick Cassel, Jory Cassel, Theon Greyjoy, Jon Snow, Robb and Bran Stark. On the road back from the execution, they found a dead direwolf. The last thing it did before dying was giving birth to six pups.

Rickon's choice of name for his direwolf was the kind any child would think of. Shaggydog.

Bran named his direwolf after his favorite season of the year. Summer.

Arya named her direwolf after the Rhoyne warrior queen of Dornish legend. Nymeria.

Sansa, in her ambitions to become elegant and refined like her lady mother, simply named her direwolf Lady.

Robb chose to name his direwolf Grey Wind. Within a year, Grey Wind will cement his name with his quick speed, agility, ferocity and strength. He would also be the alpha male of the litter.

Jon Snow and his albino direwolf seemed fit for each other. They were part of the pack and yet they seemed to stand out from the pack. Unlike his other litter-mates, the red eyed albino direwolf did not make a sound. Therefore, Jon named his direwolf Ghost.

* * *

At supper, Lord Eddard 'Ned' Stark announced to everyone all types of news.

Dacey Mormont and Benjen Stark were coming down from Castle Black to Winterfell for a visit.

"There are women on the Wall now?" Arya asked in astonishment, causing everyone to laugh.

"If there were women on the Wall, I would have probably taken the black a long time ago just to see it for myself." Theon laughed.

"There are no women in the Night's Watch, Theon, and you would do well to keep those opinions to yourself when Dacey Mormont arrives." Ned spoke to his ward in a way that was not jovial or threatening but it was enough to be both and neither.

"Does my sister know I'm here, Lord Stark?" Lyanna asked.

"I do not believe so."

Robb, Jon and Bran were silent for a bit since they each had certain memories of the heir to Bear Island. For Robb and Jon, she once took them to her home in Bear Island. Robb and Jon were each ten while Dacey was six and ten. She was practically a woman full grown and they were mere boys.

Though they had learned to ride on horseback at the age of six, Robb and Jon were put on the same horse as Dacey Mormont, who already had an idea on how impulsive a pair of ten year old boys could be. In order to make sure neither of them ran off and got lost, Dacey had Robb sit in front of her while Jon sat behind her. The wind was crisp and cool against their skin as they rode off together through the forest, the scent of pine thick in their noses and the warmth of Dacey's body against theirs were sensations neither Robb Stark or Jon Snow would or could ever forget.

During their ride through the woods, they stopped for a while so Dacey could teach them how to fish. Dacey showed both of them the same attention. Dacey taught Robb when to use his full strength and when to use a gentler hand. Jon seemed to have the opposite problem. She had to teach him when to use the strength he didn't think he had. In some cases, Dacey had to help Jon find strength in himself.

Between the three of them, they caught 12 fish, which they ate for lunch upon their return to Mormont Keep. Robb sat at Dacey's right hand and Jon ate at her left. She did not tell him to eat with the servants and stable boys, which was a surprise to him and it made him love her that much more.

For Bran, he was six years old when he got the pull to climb trees and the ramparts. One time, he slipped and fell backwards only to land in the arms of a nineteen year old Dacey Mormont.

"Take care when you climb, Bran. It's a long way up and a long way down." She gave him a kiss on the cheek and set him on the ground. Since then, even at his young age, Bran developed a love for the Mormont girls.

"Did Lady Dacey say how long she will be at Winterfell?" Bran asked.

"She did not but I imagine we'll find out on the morrow when she arrives." Catelyn said.

Arya smiled at Lyanna with excitement in her eyes. For her, Arya had a serious case of hero worship for Lyanna's eldest sister who fought the Free Folk and the Ironborn since she was old enough to swing a sword, loose an arrow and strike with a mace. The eldest daughter of Lady Maege Mormont was a resilient, strong willed and brave woman who seemed to embody the spirit of the North.

Sansa had her own memory of Dacey Mormont. It was astounding and incredible to Sansa, when she was only two and ten, to see an eight and ten Dacey Mormont clad in armor and beating down Jory Cassel in a sparring match. Robb and Jon tried to spar with the she-bear. Both of them wound up wounded and soundly defeated. At supper, the same woman appeared in a dress of Northern style with her hair brushed and flowing free across her back and shoulders. She was polite when the moment called for it but then later on in the evening, she would be found among Robb, Jon and Bran, telling stories of fighting Wildling and Ironborn raiders with a stein of Northern ale in her hand. Even though they took a beating from her, Robb and Jon loved spending time with Dacey Mormont of Bear Island.

Theon had both a lust for the she-bear and a fear of her. His family name and the simple fact that he was Ironborn was not forgotten by either him and Dacey Mormont, who once beat him till he was bleeding from head to toe. That taught Theon an important lesson.

Never try to bed a she bear of House Mormont if she does not like you or your family.

When dinner was finished, Robb and Jon had gone to prepare themselves for Dacey's arrival.

* * *

After leaving Castle Black and having traveled through the Gift, Benjen Stark and Dacey Mormont set up camp nearby the Long Lake, which flowed to the White Knife and out to the Bite.

Dacey caught some fish for them to cook over the fire. It had been years since Benjen had ever sat across from a woman and yet he did not have any impulse to try his luck with Dacey.

For a moment, as the fish fried over the fire, neither Stark or Mormont spoke to each other. Then Dacey decided to break the silence.

"Why did you take the black?"

Benjen gave a grim smile. "There are days when I wonder that question myself and then I remember. It was before Robert's Rebellion happened. A man of the Night's Watch came to town, urging all able-bodied men to join up and serve the Realm. His argument was compelling enough to make me want to join willingly."

"You never thought of becoming Lord of Winterfell?" Dacey asked.

"I was born the third son in my family. I am certain that I would have inherited less to nothing if anything at all. Winterfell would have gone to Brandon if he lived to this day. Ned never wanted to rule either Winterfell or the North; he never thought he was up to the challenge. After Father, Brandon and Lyanna were laid to rest, there was nothing for me."

"You may not have inherited Winterfell but even you could have found something for yourself. Perhaps you would have found yourself a lady wife who would love you. She could have helped you fill the hole in your heart."

Benjen smiled at Dacey's sentimentality. "You are young, Dacey, and your heart is still warm. Do not ever lose that. As for me, a man of the Night's Watch has to be as hard and cold as the Wall itself to survive. I will always love my brother, his lady wife, my nephews and nieces with all my heart, make no mistake of that but my house is on the Wall. My family is the Night's Watch."

"My uncle told me all of this long ago. Your lady wife is duty. Your mistress is honor." Dacey said.

When the fish was finally cooked, they dined on it to fill their stomachs with something more appetizing and nourishing than nostalgic grief and emotional regret.

"Did you travel from Bear Island to Castle Black only to give the Lord Commander the ancestral weapon of his father, grandfather and forefathers?"

"I went to see him for counsel. I heard of the betrothal between Rose of Highgarden and the heir to Winterfell."

"When has a betrothal between other people mattered so much to you?"

"It matters because of what a southern cunt did to my house. She ruined us and I will not see that happen to the Starks."

"I have heard talk about what your cousin did. How would that have affected you?"

"I carry shame for having stood idly by and doing nothing. Had I been there for Jorah, he would not have taken with Lynesse and he would never have done what he did."

"Is that why you are going to Winterfell? To tell Robb not to marry this girl from the Reach?"

Dacey bit a large portion of her fish out of frustration and chewed it to work out her anger. Swallowing the food in her mouth, she spoke evenly. "It's not my place to do such a thing. In standing by Robb, protecting him and guiding him, I could perhaps attain redemption for my inaction and restore honor to House Mormont."

"You truly care for Robb that much?" Benjen asked.

"Yes." Dacey spoke.

"Would you relinquish your inheritance to the title of Lady of Bear Island to be the right hand of Robb Stark?"

"Whether or not I become Lady of Bear Island, I am still a Northerner and a Mormont. If not me, Alysane will take up the mantle after my mother and serve properly as Lady of Bear Island. What I know for certain is that I can not stand by and allow some flowery bitch to ruin House Stark as mine was."

"If I didn't know better, I would have thought you were betrothed to Robb Stark." Benjen remarked. "If that were true, I have no doubt you would be a credit to both your house on Bear Island and House Stark." Dacey looked at Benjen as if to determine if he were making a jape or speaking true. "The Wall is not known for training mummers and court jesters. I truly believe you will one day make someone very happy. For their sake, I hope they can hold their own and prove themselves worthy enough to have you."

The smile on Dacey's face warmed Benjen's cold heart for a moment and then he said the inevitable. "In the morning, when you and I arrive at Winterfell, say your peace to Lord Stark, his son, whoever you need to talk with and leave the final decision in their hands."

* * *

A/n: How is this story coming along? I'm also trying to figure out a name for Robb's personal guard. If you leave a review, great. Just remember to be constructive and not destructive.


	3. 284 AC Post Robert's Rebellion

**284AC - One Year After Robert's Rebellion a.k.a. The War Of The Usurper**

A year passed since House Targaryen was overthrown and defeated. On the Iron Throne sat the man who killed the Mad King's eldest son at what became known as the Ruby Ford.

King Robert of House Baratheon.

For a long time before that and long afterwards, Dacey and her sister Alysane dreamed of the day they could take up arms to fight for the Starks and to be counted among their loyal bannermen.

Eddard Stark, the second son of the late Rickard Stark, the new Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, was a man full grown at one and twenty. From the tales her lady mother told her, Dacey saw him as a great leader of men and, in her mind, the uncrowned King of Winter. When Eddard Stark had to bring his lord father's remains along with those of his elder brother, Brandon, and his sister, Lyanna, back to Winterfell for burial. Dacey and Alysane mourned along with the rest of the North for the slain Starks and cursed the Targaryen name with every fiber of their being.

When news of Eddard's sons celebrating their first namedays reached Bear Island, Dacey sent a raven to Lord Eddard Stark, asking for a stay in Winterfell so she could meet her future liege lords in person. Alysane stayed on Bear Island to watch over their youngest sister of two tender years, Lyra, while their mother ran Mormont Keep.

Within two days, Dacey Mormont, a girl of seven, arrived in Winterfell with the aid of House Glover. Lord and Lady Stark were there to greet her. Lord Eddard was solemn and stoic at times but embraced her warmly. Lady Catelyn was more reserved but smiled kindly to the young girl.

Robb Stark and Jon Snow were in the same room though their cribs were kept at a distance from each other. Dacey did not have to guess why. Lord Eddard wanted to keep them together but Catelyn wanted to keep Robb from being close to his bastard brother.

Eddard and Catelyn watched as the young girl whispered something to the wet nurse who watched over the two infant boys. Within a moment, a comfortable chair was set between the two cribs and Dacey sat on it. Lady Catelyn smiled at seeing Dacey hold Robb until the wet nurse picked Jon Snow up from his crib and put into Dacey's arms alongside her infant son. Eddard kept a hand on Catelyn's shoulder to keep her from protesting as Dacey cradled the two boys in her arms.

It did not matter to Dacey that the auburn haired, blue eyed child was high born or that the black haired, grey eyed child was not high born. To her, they were Starks and Dacey loved them right away.

One night during her stay in Winterfell, Dacey happened to overhear Lord Stark telling Catelyn of his plan of traveling to Castle Black with Jon Snow. "I may not be fond of him but Jon has not even left his crib. Does the Night's Watch recruit at such a young age?"

"They do not recruit so early in life, Catelyn. I want him to meet Benjen. Dacey Mormont's uncle is the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. I thought they would like to see each other as well."

Catelyn grew to love Eddard Stark over time. In the blink of an eye, she grew to hold an equal contempt for him but not so much as what she harbored against the child that lay in a crib next to the son she gave Eddard. The child he brought home after the war was a reminder to her that, for one time, Eddard Stark was not entirely honorable; that there was another woman out there who he loved more than her. "Leave him on the Wall or send him to Bear Island. Whatever decision you make, know that I will never embrace your bastard or count him among our children." Catelyn said bitterly at her husband, who looked at her with a wounded look in his eyes.

Dacey hid in the shadows as Catelyn stormed out towards the small Sept built on the grounds of Winterfell. The cold words of Catelyn Stark would resonate in Dacey's mind for years.

In the morning, Eddard Stark rode out with Rodrick Cassel and several Stark soldiers and a wheelhouse that carried Dacey Mormont and Jon Snow along with a wet nurse to watch over them both.

For the majority of the journey, the wet nurse gave assistance to Dacey, who seemed to be tethered to the little boy cradled in her arms. It reminded her of Lyra and how she and Alysane would hover over her, tending to her needs and playing with her while their mother was out hunting, training the soldiers and bowmen or running Mormont Keep.

Upon their arrival at Castle Black, Eddard Stark was welcomed directly by the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and former Lord of Bear Island, Jeor Mormont. The Old Bear was four and fifty yet possessed enough vigor and might to stand against any opposition, both old and young. He was a Northman true and through. He never forgot his family's pledge to the Starks or the strong ties that bound their houses together. "Lord Stark. Castle Black welcomes you and yours with open arms."

"It is good to see you, Lord Commander Mormont. I have someone else here who will be happy to see you." Eddard Stark said in time for Dacey to emerge from the wheelhouse and run up to join the Quiet Wolf and the Old Bear. "Uncle Jeor!"

"Dacey Mormont as I live and breathe." Jeor said as he knelt and wrapped his arms around the little girl as she hugged his neck. "It is so good to see you again." Jeor spoke as he held his little niece in a bear hug.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of such a visit?" Jeor asked as stewards tended to the horses while providing salt and bread as traditional tokens of guest right to the Warden of the North, the heir to Bear Island and the Stark guards. "I have come to visit my brother and to speak with you about a sensitive matter, Lord Commander." Lord Stark said solemnly but the Lord Commander knew there was more than what was being said.

Dacey held her uncle's hand the whole time until she remembered Jon was napping in the wheelhouse. "Uncle, I must check on Jon. May I be excused to see him?"

Jeor was surprised enough to momentarily lose his voice. With a nod from him, Dacey took off at a sprint. Looking back to the Lord of Winterfell, Jeor asked, "Is that what you needed to talk with me about?"

"It's a long story."

"A long story best told over many tankards of frothy, cold beer. I shall have a steward bring us a barrel or two. Gods be good, we'll need them."

While Eddard Stark and Jeor Mormont convened to the Lord Commander's chambers to talk privately, Dacey Mormont searched for Jon. She found him on the knee of Maester Aemon nearby the rookery as the wet nurse stood at his side. "I heard there was a little girl and an infant boy on the grounds. For a moment, I did not know where I was. Then I heard the sounds of clashing steel and Alliser Thorne's voice. Am I right to say you are the Lord Commander's eldest niece?"

Dacey looked up at the old man and introduced herself. "Dacey Mormont of Bear Island. How do you do?"

"In spite of my blindness, I do quite well, thank you. The boy is good company. Better than most I can think of and better trained. In some cases, I venture to say he's more housebroken than most of the mongrels who came from the Southron prison cells." Maester Aemon said as he handed Jon Snow over to Dacey, who kissed the infant on the forehead tenderly. "He's taken a liking to you just like I'm sure his brother has."

"For a blind man, you see a lot." Dacey said. Though the old man did not show himself as a threat, there was something about him that did not sit well with her. If she knew he was the blood of the dragon, Dacey would have taken Jon from his side and ran to her uncle in alarm.

"Why has Lord Stark brought you here to Castle Black? The Night's Watch does not recruit women. The child is too young to even know what the Night's Watch is."

"Lord Stark wanted to speak with the Lord Commander and visit his brother. I wanted to visit my uncle. It was happenstance that we would both venture to the same place." Dacey said as Jon stirred in her arms, signaling that he was hungry. "Go see Three Finger Hob and he'll fix something up for you and the boy."

"Thank you, Maester."

"It was a delight to meet you, Dacey Mormont." Maester Aemon said as Dacey walked towards the mess hall with Jon Snow in her arms.

Upon returning to Winterfell, Lady Catelyn watched as Eddard Stark dismounted his horse along with his guards. Dacey emerged from the wheelhouse with Jon Snow in her arms, wrapped in warm furs.

Catelyn gave Eddard a stare that was colder than the waters in the Bay of Ice during winter. He simply walked away from her as she continued glaring at him.

"Lady Stark."

Catelyn's attention was now on the 7 year old girl holding her lord husband's bastard in her arms. "I will take him back to his crib. Robb must have missed us while we were at Castle Black."

Catelyn could not trust her own tongue in front of the little girl who was more of a Northerner than she would ever be. A nod was just enough to show acknowledgment. Dacey walked away, cradling Jon Snow tenderly and carefully in her arms as if he were her own.

"Even if that red haired harpy does not say it, I love you, Jon. Never forget that." Dacey said as she kissed his forehead.

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A/n: This will go a long way with setting up what comes next. I thank Dovah-wolfbear64, LadyKatherine29 and Marah Lane for their support and their reviews. It means a lot. Even if I only got 5 reviews so far, I value those reviews greatly. Review if you can but be police and constructive when you do. If you like the story, great. If not, do not try to demoralize my momentum or my ability to write through the reviews. Thank you.


	4. 298 AC Winterfell

Honor and Fealty chapter 4

A/n: According to the research I have done, Maege and Alysane Mormont each must have married someone beneath their house level. That is the only reason why they kept the Mormont name. Since there never was any details about Maege Mormont's husband or Alysane's husband (for the sake of the story, her husband's name is Jeron), I'm taking a stab in the dark, so to speak, with who they might have been without having to go too deep into detail. Dacey, Alysane, Lyra, Jorelle and Lyanna's father probably got killed during an Ironborn attack from the south while Alysane's husband might have been felled during a Wildling raid. Also, I'm going off on a limb regarding Alysane's daughter and son. Sarea and Beron Mormont. The names chosen for them are only for the purposes of this story.

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 **298 AC - Present Day**

Though Winterfell was grand and vast, Dacey Mormont spotted Bran Stark high above on the ramparts as she and Benjen Stark entered the ancestral seat of House Stark by way of the East Gate.

They were met by Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark. Dacey stood back for a moment so Benjen could embrace his brother and his sister-by-law. Ned was happy to see his sole surviving sibling again while Catelyn seemed friendly enough with Benjen to where she could be happy to see him.

Ned Stark noticed Dacey and waved her forward. Dacey stepped forward and bowed in reverence to the Warden of the North. The past was not lost on him and he knew she remembered going with him to Castle Black with Jon Snow bundled in her arms. Never once did Dacey ever ask what was spoken between him and her uncle. Ned Stark remained thankful for that.

"Lady Mormont, it is a privilege to receive you in Winterfell." Ned spoke, bringing a smile to Dacey's face. "It is as well a privilege to be received by you and your lady wife, Lord Stark." Dacey spoke kindly as she looked to him.

In a manner inherent to the guest right, Ned presented his brother and Dacey Mormont with tokens of bread and salt along with mugs of cold Northern ale.

"The hospitality of Winterfell is yours for as long as you like." Ned said warmly to both Benjen and Dacey.

"While it is good to see you again, Ned, I'm here on behalf of the Night's Watch. Take me to see the new recruits I'm taking up north to the Wall. When that is done, I will go see my nephews and nieces." Benjen spoke as he happily accepted his mug of ale.

As the Stark brothers excused themselves and went on their way to the dungeons, Dacey Mormont was left in the company of Lady Catelyn Stark.

The last time she saw Dacey Mormont, Catelyn saw a little girl in attire worn by the smallfolk of the North holding Jon Snow and Robb Stark in her arms. It was absurd to Catelyn that Dacey possessed such care for Ned's bastard or that she saw him as Robb's brother and equal.

Fourteen years later, Dacey Mormont stood before Catelyn Stark as a tall, lean and strikingly beautiful Northern woman full grown and dressed in armor with a sheathed longsword at one side and a mace at the other. Her hair was long, unbound and dark black, which matched her cloak lined with bear fur. Though her black leathers, armor and cloak concealed it, Dacey's body was physically toned and very strong; a body shaped and toughened by work, training and combat against the Ironborn and the Free Folk.

"Lady Stark. It has been a long time since we last saw one another." Dacey said politely as she drank half the ale in her mug.

"Yes, it has, Lady Mormont. How are your mother and sisters? Has Alysane remarried?" Catelyn asked.

"My sisters and I are well as is my mother. Alysane has not remarried. Very few on Bear Island or on the mainland have proven themselves or shown any interest in trying. Sarea and Beron have been more than enough to fill the void left after Jeron was killed by the Wildlings." Dacey replied before finishing the rest of the ale in her mug.

"Your sister, Lyanna, came to visit us a few days ago. She has aided Arya with her tutelage, which I am thankful for. However, Lyanna has spoken back to Septa Mordane more than once in ways that are unbecoming of a lady. Though I am well aware that the women of House Mormont are strong willed and outspoken, I believe your sister could have found other ways to express her thoughts and opinions."

"When it comes to my mother, my sisters or myself expressing opinions or points of view, we favor only two options. One involves words that we do not mince. The other does not involve words at all." Dacey said directly, pausing in her steps to look Catelyn eye to eye, a hand gripping the handle of her prized mace. The message was made abundantly clear to Catelyn that a few sharp words were preferable to being attacked with any weapon.

"If you may give me leave, I will go see how Robb and Jon have come along over the years." Dacey said, causing Catelyn's expression to sour upon mention of Lord Stark's bastard. "Speaking of Jon, how has he been keeping?" Dacey had not forgotten the cruel words spoken by Catelyn Stark years ago.

"He is well enough. I have been of the opinion that he would have flourished better on Bear Island than in Winterfell." It pained her to say anything kind about Jon Snow, though not so much as the fact that her own children embraced him as though he were one of them. It mystified her equally that Dacey chose to bring Jon back to Winterfell rather than offering to take him to live with her on Bear Island.

"It would not have done well to separate him from his brother when they were still swaddling infants in their cribs." Dacey said patiently before asking with a brazen tone, "Do you still have that foul mouthed Ironborn whoremonger living with you?"

"Yes. Theon Greyjoy lives here with us as a ward."

Dacey smiled thinly. "For Robb and Jon's sakes, I better not find out that Theon has been a bad influence on them."

"There is an important matter I wish to discuss with you tonight." Catelyn said. Arya and Lyanna had asked her about what they had discussed in the godswood and it did not go well with her.

"When the time comes for that discussion, we will speak together again." Dacey said, not flinching from the older woman's glare while noticing a direwolf pacing around nearby several yards from her while out of Catelyn's field of vision.

"I will have the servents prepare guest chambers for you. As Lord Stark indicated upon your arrival, the hospitality of Winterfell is yours."

"Thank you, Lady Stark." Dacey said as she walked away from Catelyn. Once she was by herself and Lady Catelyn was out of sight, Dacey hissed under her breath, "Harpy."

Dacey approached the wolf, who looked up in time for Bran to deftly climb down the wall. Bran's feet never touched the ground upon leaping off the side of of the wall. He did feel a pair of slender yet strong arms catch him and turn him around in mid air.

"You ought to thank the Gods I caught you instead of your lady mother, Brandon Stark."

"I saw you arrive with my uncle Benjen. You look beautiful, Lady Dacey." Bran said bashfully, which made Dacey smile at the boy's adorable yet innocent charm.

"Be careful where you climb and how far up you go. Fate is not always kind." Dacey said to Bran before she kissed him on the cheek and set him down on his feet. "I'm on my way to the training grounds. Come with me. It's done me good to see you."

Bran nodded and turned to his direwolf. "Summer, come."

Summer nodded happily and walked alongside Bran as he held Dacey's hand. "That's a nice name for your wolf, Bran." Dacey said as they approached the training grounds where Rodrik Cassel, Winterfell's master-at-arms, was training two boys with blunted swords.

The dark auburn haired boy was tall and muscular. His attacks were powerful. Meanwhile, the black-haired boy was shorter and leaner. His attacks were swift. When their swords were lowered and they noticed the arrival of the she-bear, Robb Stark and Jon Snow embraced Dacey Mormont as she wrapped an arm around each of their necks.

For a long time when Robb Stark and Jon Snow were younger boys, they saw Dacey Mormont as a doting sister.

Now that they were on the cusp of manhood, the two of them saw how she had become a woman full grown and a true Northern beauty if there ever was one. "Lady Dacey Mormont. What do we owe your visit to Winterfell?" Robb asked.

"I came here with your uncle Benjen from Castle Black while I was visiting my uncle Jeor." Dacey said as she looked over Robb with a once over glance. "I can only imagine how many lords and their daughters came to Winterfell before the Highgarden betrothal was struck." The grin on her face did not reach her eyes yet she tried her hand at light hearted humor.

Though he tried not to blush, Robb's face betrayed him. Dacey kissed Robb on the cheek and his face turned redder than his auburn hair. "When the time comes to see her, I will ride out with you, Robb Stark. Is that clear?"

"I would not have thought to go without you watching over me, Dacey Mormont." Robb said with a warm smile on his face.

Turning her eyes to Robb's base born brother, Dacey hugged Jon Snow and kissed his cheek. "You've grown into a solemn Stark if I do say so myself." The warm smile on Dacey's face made Jon's mood brighten up.

"You speak kindly, Lady Mormont, but I am not a Stark." Jon said. Before he could lower his chin to his chest, Dacey lifted it with her hand. "To me, you are a Stark in spirit and heart. The name will come in time." Dacey spoke with resolve. The kiss she gave him on the forehead was reassuring and it invoked the memory of being held in her arms.

A part of Jon Snow that he never revealed to anyone wondered if Dacey Mormont had been his mother in another life.

"No matter how many sweet words you pour in his ear, Mormont, he's the bastard of Winterfell."

Dacey's mood changed instantly as she gave a cold stare at Theon Greyjoy. It was her hand on Jon's shoulder that reminded her where she was. "Jon, tell Maester Luwin that he's going to have his hands full with mending Theon Greyjoy's broken body very soon."

* * *

Septa Mordane was more than bothered when Sansa and Arya's wolves joined them for their studies. It took many reassurances to set the old woman at ease. The wolves were very much like their respective mistresses.

Lady sat upright on her haunches with poise in the likeness of Sansa.

Nymeria was looking up at the embroidery in Arya's hands, growling at it as if she could sense her mistress's frustration with the needlework. Lyanna patted Nymeria gently as she helped Arya through it.

Half way through the embroidery, there were sounds of a fight breaking out, followed by fits of laughter coming from the courtyards. Sansa and Jeyne heard it as well. Before Septa Mordane could protest, Arya and Lyanna ran out to the ledge to see what the fuss was about with Nymeria running after them.

The sight before them brought smiles to their faces.

Theon Greyjoy was in the battle for his life against Dacey Mormont. He had his shield up and it was taking all his strength to keep the shield in place to prevent getting bashed in with a mace.

Moments ago, they went against each other with blunted swords and that contest ended with Dacey disarming Theon and kicking him right off his feet. By the time she was pummeling him with her mace, Theon was crying out within a few minutes, "I yield!"

While Theon was attended to by Luwin and Cassel, Dacey rejoined Robb Stark and Jon Snow just as Lyanna Mormont ran down the steps leading to the courtyard with Arya hot on her heels. "Dacey!" By the time she had her mace and sword put back in place at her sides, Dacey caught Lyanna in a bear hug. "Lyanna. I'm happy to see you."

Dacey looked around Lyanna to see Arya looking up at her with what had to be a terminal case of hero worship. "Arya Stark. How many more wrinkles have you put on your Septa's face?"

"Plenty more than what she had when she first arrived at Winterfell." Arya japed.

Dacey set Lyanna down on her feet and ruffled Arya's hair. "Come with me and your brothers to the godswood, Arya."

While Arya Stark and Lyanna Mormont eagerly ran out to meet Dacey Mormont, Sansa and Jeyne remained up above, watching Dacey Mormont throw Theon a brutal beating. It was unthinkable for them to get into fights or take up weapons yet the woman who had become the object of affection for her brothers took to it easily and eagerly.

They watched for a while as Dacey and Lyanna then led Bran, Arya, Robb and Jon towards the godswood along with their direwolves (Summer, Nymeria, Grey Wind and Ghost) before returning to Septa Mordane and their lessons.

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The godswood of Winterfell was not littered with affectations or flowery scents. It was dark, primal and untouched by the Andals. These were things that the Northerners with blood of the First Men in their veins would appreciate. As well, in the godswood, no spies could be found. No one would or could dare try to eavesdrop on anything that transpired upon such sacred ground.

There were things that had to be discussed between the Starks and the Mormonts. The godswood in Winterfell was the one place they could speak together safely.

Just as they were about to approach the clearing where the heart tree stood before a small pond fed by the underground hot springs, Dacey motioned for everyone to stop. "Jon, stay here with Bran, Arya and Lyanna. I must speak privately with Robb first. Then I will speak with you."

While Bran and Arya had no idea what was going on, Jon and Lyanna seemed to understand.

Jon kept Bran close to him and Lyanna stood by Arya's side as Dacey Mormont and Robb Stark walked towards the heart tree, Grey Wind walking steadily at his master's side. Though Arya never thought of such things, she could see Dacey marrying Robb before the heart tree and thus becoming her sister by law.

Dacey and Robb bowed their heads, spending time together in prayer and self reflection. When that was done, they looked to each other. "On these hallowed grounds, Robb Stark, neither one of us can lie. The Old Gods are watching us." Dacey said as they looked up at the face of the heart tree.

"I know." Robb replied.

"Did your mother come to you with news of your betrothal?" Dacey asked.

Robb nodded his head. "Within the year, I will marry Margaery of House Tyrell, the daughter of Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South. I have heard tales of her beauty and grace."

"Even the loveliest rose is rooted in dirt and their pretty petals do a lot to distract you from the sharp thorns that draw blood without hesitation or remorse." Dacey warned with strife in her voice as she thought of the Golden Rose wrapping vines around her Young Wolf's neck like a hangman's noose.

"Do you have such contempt for someone you never met before, Dacey?" Robb asked.

"A Southron woman came to the North once. She was of the Reach. Lynesse Hightower married my cousin and ruined him. He turned to selling poachers into slavery to afford her lavish lifestyle. In doing this, he brought disgrace to House Mormont. When it happened, it was my lady mother, my sisters and I who had to deal with it, especially after Jorah fled Westeros to escape the justice Lord Stark would have dealt him. The South has no respect or love for the North or for Northerners so why should I have any love or respect for the South?"

"From what I have been told by my great uncle in the Riverlands, Lady Margaery is nothing like Lynesse Hightower." Robb said, referring to Brynden 'The Blackfish' Tully. Among the members of his mother's family, The Blackfish was perhaps the smartest and boldest one among them. "Why did you come all the way from Bear Island?"

Dacey sighed. "I do not want to see what happened to my house happen to yours."

Looking Robb in his blue eyes, Dacey revealed her intent. "Jorah Mormont is my cousin; my family. Though he brought disgrace to our house, I still love him. I do not condemn him as much as I condemn myself for not doing anything or speaking up. Because I stood by and did nothing, he fled Westeros as a disgraced knight, shamed lord and expatriate. I do not ask for pardon on his behalf. I ask for the chance to redeem myself for my inaction."

In a move spurred by boldness and tenderness, Robb placed a hand on Dacey's shoulder. "You have committed no crimes against me, my family or the North for which you need to be pardoned. Though if it will bring you peace of mind, how would you have sought redemption?"

"Robb Stark, I wish to serve at your side. I would train you in body and mind, give you strength and guidance. In this service to you and your house, I hope to wash away the stain on my family's honor and, if the Gods will allow it, my own guilt."

Robb simply embraced Dacey, who then wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. Breaking from the embrace briefly, Dacey looked into Robb's eyes and spoke with resolve in her voice. "When I was a child, I saw your father as the uncrowned King of Winter. If he is that to me, then you are the uncrowned Prince of the North. If you are to govern the North, I will give you what strength and wisdom I possess to help you do it right." Releasing Robb from her embrace, Dacey took his hands in hers and said, "You will one day take up your family's ancestral greatsword. I will not see you or your hands tremble or hesitate come the day, Robb Stark."

Robb was very touched by the depth of Dacey's love and loyalty to him. "I will speak with my father. Whatever happens, we must abide in his judgment." Robb said.

Dacey nodded in accordance. "Whatever happens, I will stand by you and take care of you, Robb Stark."

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A/n: Sorry about the delay. I recently got a new job after being without one. With any luck, this story will push forward from this point on more easily. I have toyed around with a Dacey/Robb pairing but I am having a tough time in figuring out how to make that happen. I do not oppose Robb/Margaery if it's done right. I just find Robb/Dacey very interesting since both their families are very close and that they do love/care for each other deeply.


	5. Conversations & Contemplations

Honor & Fealty chapter 5

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Jon looked on in silence as Robb spoke with Dacey. It did not surprise or upset him that she chose to speak with his highborn brother first. He was the heir to Winterfell, her future liege lord and Warden of the North. It was likely that Dacey chose to personally pledge her fealty and service to Robb before anyone else.

Some days, it mystified him that Dacey acknowledged him with the love that she did in spite of his origins. Jon thought the mark of bastardy would have made him as approachable as a leper but Dacey embraced him as if he were no different than Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon.

"Lyra has thought of you ever since your first visit to Bear Island with Robb all those years ago." Lyanna said, pulling Jon out of his own thoughts. "How is she?" Jon asked.

"She started swimming in the Bay of Ice. The waters there are very invigorating. Or so she says, at least. Lyra has often wondered when you will work up the nerve to go out there with her."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Arya asked while already thinking about joining Lyra in the Bay of Ice if she was allowed to be fostered on Bear Island.

"Only if you forget how to swim." Lyanna said. "I make no jape about it, Jon Snow. If you ever visit Bear Island again, Lyra will try to get you out there with her in the water."

"I do not have much opportunity for swimming in Winterfell." Jon said feebly. Lyanna did not press further but the smile she gave Jon said more than she ever could with words.

The truth he never spoke of was that he had an attraction to the middle sister of the Mormont girls.

Lyra Mormont did not have the maternal instincts like Alysane Mormont nor did she possess the martial skills equal to those of her mother, Lady Maege Mormont, or her eldest sister, Dacey Mormont. On the other hand, Lyra had a bit more maturity than Jorelle Mormont and Lyanna Mormont. When it came to flirting, Lyra did not shy away from being physical in her advances towards Jon, all of which she did not apologize for.

Robb and Grey Wind's return saved Jon from further risk of embarrassment.

"Jon, Dacey is waiting for you." Robb said.

Jon nodded and walked off to speak with Dacey Mormont by the heart tree. Ghost walked up alongside him.

Upon approaching Dacey, Jon sat down and faced her. Being in front of the heart tree, thus in the eyes of the Old Gods, Jon was compelled to speak openly.

"Thank you for standing up for me. Not many have ever done that for me."

"Jon, there is something in you that says you are meant to do great things. When I came to Winterfell to see you and Robb for the first time, you both were infants. She kept you apart but in my arms, I brought you together." Jon did not have to guess who she was referring to.

The sight of Dacey's face taking a grim expression unnerved Jon.

"One night, as I wandered the halls of Winterfell, I came across the bed chambers of Lord and Lady Stark. He planned to travel up to Castle Black so he could speak with my uncle. To this day, what was spoken between them is unknown and I never asked. What is known is that Lady Stark told him to either leave you on the Wall or to send you to my home on Bear Island."

The light left Jon's face as he heard this. "Why didn't you?"

Upon Dacey's inquisitive expression, Jon asked his question more directly. "Why didn't you take me with you to Bear Island? I would have served you, your mother and your sisters faithfully."

"I never saw you as a servant boy in our house, Jon. That has not changed. Besides, I did not want to give Lady Catelyn Stark the satisfaction of having used me and my house to separate you from your brothers and sisters. It would have broken Robb's heart to have you taken away from him."

For reasons he could not fathom, Jon made a confession to Dacey. "I have thought about going north to the Wall one day and taking the black. No one up there would care that I'm a bastard, I would be able to achieve glory and honor for myself."

Dacey felt a cold grip on her stomach when she heard Jon say that. "You have no idea what you are talking about, Jon. The Night's Watch has become a shadow of its former self and yet the cost of taking the black remains the same."

"Theon Greyjoy and Lady Stark have made it clear to me that I'm a bastard whenever they feel like I have forgotten what I am. What could I possibly hope to achieve in my life? I will never inherit lands or titles. No one will ever see me as anything else than the living evidence that the honorable Eddard Stark had forsaken his marriage vows for the company of another woman he never speaks of."

"From what I know of Eddard Stark, he does not strike me as the kind that would betray his wedding vows on the come hither glance of any woman. As for companionship, Alysane had seen you with Lyra on several occasions. She spoke to me about it." Dacey said with a soft tone. Jon bowed his head to keep from either blushing or appearing embarrassed. "Though she has flirted with you many times, Lyra genuinely cares for you. She might have punched you in the face for even thinking of taking the black by choice but it would be out of love."

Taking Jon's hands in hers and made sure he looked her in the eyes. "I have come here to help mold Robb into a man and the future lord he needs to be for House Stark and the North. I will do no less in helping you grow and become a man."

"You talk about molding Robb into a man in ways that many other loyal bannermen do not."

Upon seeing the expression on Dacey's face, Jon spoke further. "I will not ask what your feelings are for Robb but I can tell you love him."

Dacey wanted to protest and say that it was not that kind of love but remembered that they were under the watchful eyes of the heart tree. They could not lie for the Old Gods would know truth from deception without fail. Instead of speaking, which could betray what was in her heart, Dacey nodded. At that moment, the wind blew through the godswood and Dacey heard the Old Gods speak to her.

They knew her heart and what she hid in it.

The North would grow stronger than they ever were before while the South would wilt and fall away as chafe in the wind.

Rising up from the ground, Dacey Mormont and Jon Snow with Ghost walked back to the others and they all returned in time for Benjen Stark to greet them with Rickon on his shoulders.

* * *

While the Stark siblings and Jon Snow went to talk with Benjen, several servant girls led by Sansa Stark approached Dacey and Lyanna Mormont. "Lady Dacey, it's always a delight to receive the heir to Bear Island in Winterfell." Her voice was well practiced, polite and articulate. Dacey could tell right away that she was Catelyn's only chance of making a noblewoman out of her daughters. "It has done me good to see you, Lady Sansa. You have grown since the last time we saw one another. To what do I owe this greeting?"

"Your chambers are prepared and I hoped to escort you there myself if it pleases you."

"Of course. Lead the way." Dacey said as Lyanna followed her and Sansa.

As they walked together side by side, Sansa spoke first. "Arya acts very different with you than with me, Lady Dacey. Why is that so?"

"I would not say it is from a lack of love for you or your lady mother, Sansa." Dacey said directly. "I would venture to say that Arya takes more after House Stark than House Tully."

"I spoke with my mother before seeing you. You were rather direct with your opinions and how the women of House Mormont express them. I do not ask for your contrition. I do wish to know why you have such contempt for my mother, her family or indeed anyone who lives south of the Neck." Sansa spoke as she watched Lyanna stand up on a stool as she helped Dacey out of her armor.

"I am a Northerner. I have been since the day I was born. I keep to the Old Gods. Since I was a child of seven, long before you were born, I saw and heard what the South did to Northerners during Robert's Rebellion. Three Starks went to the South alive and came back dead. Ever since then, I have not had any love or respect for the South." Dacey asked. Lyanna did not speak but she listened to the conversation as she finished taking off the all the easy parts that covered her arms and legs. Because it was too big for her to take off, Lyanna only unfastened the breastplate so Dacey could remove it herself.

"Robb was born in Riverrun during the Rebellion before being brought to Winterfell. He favors our mother's coloring as do I. Does that make him less of a Northerner? He was in the South and he came to Winterfell alive." Sansa responded. "He keeps to the Old Gods to honor our father. With all of these things being said, do you love him less?"

Dacey felt bile build in her throat as she heard Sansa's argument. For the longest time, she thought Robb was born in Winterfell. She couldn't even look at Sansa until Lyanna held her hand in a show of support. "Lady Dacey, I know you love and care for Robb. I do not mean to speak ill to you but not all Southrons are like the Targaryens."

Looking at the parcels left on the bed by the handmaidens, Sansa changed the topic. "I had taken the liberty of finding some clothes for you to wear. I am aware that you do not care for Southron fashion so they have none of their affectations. If you would like, I can have the handmaidens draw you a bath. Perhaps it will grant you some peace from old wounds."

"Thank you, Lady Sansa. You are very kind." Dacey spoke first. "Were you born in Riverrun like Robb was?" Lyanna asked as Dacey stripped down to her smallclothes.

"No. I was born here in Winterfell." Sansa spoke quickly. She was not accustomed to watching other women disrobe around her and the sight of Dacey Mormont's ample bosom and muscle defined body was disarming. She didn't need to see explicit evidence that Dacey was a woman full grown or that her body bore such strength while retaining a feminine figure.

"Then you are of the North regardless of coloring. Do not let anyone tell you anything different." Lyanna said as Dacey shed her smallclothes and stepped into a robe.

"I will set the handmaidens to draw your math right away." Sansa said as she quickly made her leave.

Once the bath was drawn, Dacey washed up, allowing the water to rinse away the dirt, sweat and grime from a long travel before getting dressed. The apparel she chose to wear for supper was a black and forest green that showed off her physique and figure.

"Robb might forget all about the Golden Rose of Highgarden when he sees you in this dress, Dacey." Lyanna said with a smile.

Though it was meant to be a kind jape, there was something about those words that made it sound true to Dacey. A part of her really hoped that did happen.

* * *

A/n: Big thanks to Marah Lane for helping me in looking over several bits and pieces of this chapter to make sure there were no holes or inconsistencies. In the next chapter, decisions will be made, opinions will be voiced and another Mormont may be entered into the story. Thanks to jean d'arc, dovah-wolfbear and Marah Lane for their support and reviews. I greatly appreciate them.


	6. Fates Decided & Disputed

Honor and Fealty chapter 6

* * *

A knock on the door caught Dacey and Lyanna's attention.

"Who's there?"

"Lady Catelyn Stark. May I enter?"

Dacey clenched her jaw tight in an attempt to reign in her temper. Lyanna chose to speak for her sister. "Enter, Lady Stark."

Upon entering the room, Catelyn took notice of how well Dacey Mormont wore a dress, even if it was too short to cover her legs completely and considerably tight in the chest. Lyanna Mormont had better success with clothes since she and Arya were closer in size.

"You look lovely, Lady Dacey."

Dacey smiled and nodded in acknowledgment of Lady Stark's complement. "This dress is either attempting to strangle me by my chest or it's telling me I'm more endowed than its owner."

Catelyn almost blushed and laughed at Dacey's jape until she remembered why she was there.

"Lyanna, I need to speak privately with your sister." Catelyn watched as Lyanna Mormont looked up to Dacey. It appeared that Lyanna sooner headed the words of her eldest sister than those of Eddard Stark's wife. In reality, Lyanna was only showing concern for Dacey and what talking with Catelyn could lead up to. "Go get dressed, Lyanna. I'll meet you at the Great Hall for supper. I will be alright."

Lyanna looked at Catelyn for a moment before hugging Dacey and walking out of the room, closing the door behind her.

"Is this the talk you wished to have with me, Lady Stark?"

Catelyn maintained eye contact with Dacey as she addressed her. "My mother raised me and my sister in ways that are different than how Lady Maege raised you and your sisters. I want my daughters to become learned and mannered noblewomen. While Sansa has embraced such lessons and tutelage, Arya stubbornly fights against it. Lyanna seems to only encourage her rebellious attitude."

"Arya has a mind of her own, Lady Stark. It's up to her to decide if she wants that kind of life or not. She and Lyanna seem to possess the same unruly spirit and I would not have it any other way." Dacey responded with the resolve inherent to every Mormont woman.

"Arya has asked to be fostered on Bear Island. Bran has asked to go with her."

Dacey sensed the anger in Catelyn's voice. It was as though her ambitions for her children were being undermined and she was silently accusing House Mormont for turning them against her.

In light of Sansa's talk with her just moments ago, Dacey could not lash out as before. At the same time, Dacey saw Catelyn Stark's motives as an attempt to manipulate the fates of her children to her will. That was very bad for all of them.

"I have spoken with Sansa. She has shown herself to be dignified and well spoken. I would venture to say that she is well on her way to becoming the noblewoman you want her to be. Arya is not Sansa. She will never be the noblewoman you want her to be if she does not want that life for herself. It will not matter how many Septas you put in front of her or how many lessons you make her attend. As for being fostered on Bear Island, if Bran and Arya want that, House Mormont will receive them with open arms."

"Arya and Bran are my children."

"They are Starks and of the North or have you forgotten that?" Dacey snapped. "You have Sansa well groomed as a noblewoman because she wants to be like you. Arya possesses a Northern spirit just as Bran does. They would do very well on Bear Island. Since we're talking about your children, Sansa told me about Robb being born in Riverrun. I still see him as a pure Northerner regardless of that fact or that he favors your coloring. He will one day become Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. If I have anything to say about it, I would see him govern the North properly."

Catelyn and Dacey stared down each other as if to see who would back up first. Neither woman took a step back.

Taking a calming breath, Catelyn spoke. "Tonight at supper, Lord Stark and I must speak privately with our children. You and your sister will dine with Jon Snow and Theon Greyjoy outside the Great Hall. It is no reflection on you or your sister."

Dacey walked up to Catelyn, demonstrating the height and size she held over her and that, even in a dress, a Mormont woman would never be made to back down or be put to heel. At a height of 6 feet, Dacey stood tall with her shoulders back and chest out to show that she was formidable as the bear of House Mormont.

The look in her eyes was akin to a bear ready to tear a trout apart with its claws and teeth.

"Of course, Lady Stark. I understand. Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me?"

"No."

Dacey gave Catelyn a thin smile. "How is Theon faring after what happened earlier today?"

"Maester Luwin had quite the task of mending his wounds. What did he do to merit such pain?"

Dacey leaned in and spoke with what sounded like a growl. "Theon spoke out of turn. He learned right away that words and actions have consequences."

"I wonder though if you have learned such a lesson, Lady Dacey." Catelyn said bitterly.

"I wonder the same of you, Lady Catelyn." Dacey said before she walked past Catelyn and out of the guest house.

* * *

Jon Snow sat at the head of the wood table just outside the Great Hall alongside two Mormonts and one Greyjoy. Dacey and Lyanna sat at his right and Theon sat at his left. Positioned in a circle around them were the six direwolves of House Stark.

Though it was not a grand dining hall, they were more than taken care of with roast boar and flanks of cooked venison with various vegetables and fruits. Because they were the only ones old enough to drink, Theon had wine and Dacey had beer.

"How goes your recovery, Greyjoy?" Dacey asked.

"Well enough, Mormont." Theon grunted only to wince as he felt a surge of pain cross him when he tried to breathe too deeply. The wine helped to dull the pain if only slightly. "The Ironborn have fought your house many times but you are the first and only Mormont I have ever fought. If I don't ever have to fight another any time soon, I'll be all the better for it."

"On any other day, I would have fought you simply because of the simple fact that you are Ironborn by birth. The only reason I have not decorated the walls of Winterfell with your insides is for the fact that you're a guest of House Stark."

"You make it sound like it's a privilege to be the ward of a house that put mine to heel."

"Considering how your house hates the concept of honest labor and revels in taking what belongs to others, it is a privilege for you to say your full name without being killed immediately. Besides, it's your mouth that earned you a beating from my sister." Lyanna spoke firmly at Theon.

"I only called Jon what he is, bear cub. The name Snow is no more a badge of honor for Northern bastards than for Ironborn bastards being called Pyke."

Dacey shot a cold stare at Theon for a moment before she smiled and pointed at his left. Theon turned and found himself staring into the blood red eyes of Ghost, his mouth agape with his teeth bared. He never heard Ghost move up to the bench or growl but he remained as ferocious as his liter mates.

"Ghost, to me." Jon said, calling his direwolf to his side. Ghost lept off the bench and walked over to Jon's side. "Lady Dacey, perhaps it's best if you and Lyanna do not talk with Theon for the remainder of the time you're here." With a glance at Theon, Jon thought otherwise. "Then again, perhaps it's Theon who ought to keep his distance from the two of you."

Eager to change the topic of discussion, Theon asked, "If House Mormont is so close to the Starks, why are the two of you eating out here with us instead of inside the Great Hall?"

"The Starks are dealing with private issues inside. If it involves us, we'll find out soon enough." Dacey replied.

Just then, the doors of the Great Hall opened and out walked Lady Catelyn. She did not give them a glance as she stormed towards the Small Sept and closed the door behind her.

Before they could ask anything, Sansa walked out to them. The look in her eyes was part distress and part anger. "Dacey and Lyanna Mormont, my father wishes to speak with you both in the Great Hall."

Dacey and Lyanna looked at each other with concern before rising from the table and walking into the Great Hall with Sansa leading the way.

Ned Stark sat at the head of the table. Robb sat at his left hand while Arya sat one chair away from him. On the other side, Bran and Rickon sat together.

Sansa motioned for Dacey and Lyanna to stand at the foot of the table before taking her seat between Robb and Arya.

"Dacey Mormont, you will send a messenger raven to Bear Island tonight. It will be addressed to your mother, Lady Maege Mormont." Ned began, his voice fit with the commanding tone befitting for the Warden of the North and Lord Paramount of Winterfell.

"What message shall I send?" Dacey asked.

"In three days, House Glover and several of the mountain clans will provide protection for either your mother or your sisters to arrive at Winterfell. I have decided to allow Arya and Bran to be fostered by House Mormont on Bear Island. Whoever does arrive with the caravan will bring all your personal effects from home."

Dacey had an idea what he was getting at but she needed to hear it straight from him. "Lord Stark?"

"Lady Dacey Mormont, I would have you come to Winterfell to aid in the education and training of my son, Robb. Will you accept this task?"

"Yes, Lord Stark. I shall. If I may ask, would I be able to extend such training and attention to Jon Snow?"

"If it does not deter you from your duties, you may take Jon Snow under your tutelage alongside Robb."

It was taking every ounce of self control in Robb, Arya, Bran and Rickon to keep their composure but Lyanna could see the smile in Arya's eyes easily as well as the others save for Ned Stark.

"Dacey and Lyanna Mormont, you both are free to return to finish your supper. I will speak privately though with you tonight, Dacey Mormont."

Dacey and Lyanna bowed their heads in acknowledgment of Ned Stark's decree before leaving the Great Hall.

Long after supper was finished, Dacey wrote the message detailing everything that was to happen within the next three days and made sure that the messenger raven was well fed and equipped to fly to Bear Island.

* * *

In the late hours of the night, Dacey was summoned to the crypts of Winterfell by Rodrik Cassel. "Lord Stark wishes for you to join him in the crypts beneath Winterfell, Lady Mormont."

She did not have enough time to put all her old clothes and armor on and the dress she had didn't completely cover her body. After putting on her cloak over her dress-clad body, Dacey walked out of the guest house towards the dark crypts where the family and ancestors of House Stark were laid to rest. Rodrick Cassel walked alongside her.

Taking the lit torch offered to her by Winterfell's master-at-arms, Dacey walked down the long hall until she saw Lord Eddard Stark standing at the final resting place of his sister, Lyanna Stark. He had a stoic yet regal aura about himself.

She kept quiet so as to not disturb him. No doubt he was either thinking of his sister or praying to the Old Gods.

"Come closer, Lady Dacey."

Dacey swiftly made her way towards the Lord of Winterfell. She did not run to him but she did not take her time. "I did not wish to disturb you."

"You have never disturbed me. You and my wife seem to disturb each other though. Why is that?" Ned asked. When the issue of fostering Arya and Bran on Bear Island came up, he could see her demeanor darken as it did whenever Jon was brought up in discussion.

"We have different points of view, Lord Stark. I do not hate Lady Stark nor do I mean any offense."

"You have a Northern spirit, Lady Mormont. Arya has it as well." Lord Stark smiled grimly. "Lyanna possessed that same spirit in life. She loved swordplay, hunting and riding on horseback just like Brandon did. Every day, I see it more in Arya." The way he spoke of it was both in silent resignation and in mild worry. "I can only pray that Arya lives longer than Lyanna did."

"Bran seems to have inherited your calm nature. Even then, I doubt even he could convince Arya to be tamed by anyone." Dacey said. "I mean no disrespect to you, Lord Stark, but Arya will fight you and your wife. Considering how she is the second daughter, she might think there is less call to impress for her than it is with Sansa."

"It seems that rebellion has a tendency of running in any house, including mine." Ned said solemnly before looking Dacey in the eye. "You have never committed any crime or any offense that would cast shame upon yourself or your house. Jorah Mormont did that. It grieves me that you, your sisters and Lady Maege Mormont have had to suffer what your cousin left behind in the wake of his exile."

"Thank you, Lord Stark. It means a great deal to us that you hold us in such high regard."

"Get a good night's rest. Tomorrow, you will travel to White Harbor with Robb and Sansa. There will be several trading and merchant ships coming to port from across the Narrow Sea. You and Robb will speak at some point with members of House Manderly. They will see that you get a fair deal with what is being bartered with from Essos. Your clothes and armor will be well cleaned and ready for you in the morning."

"Good night then...Lord Stark." Dacey said as she held the torch tighter than before.

Just when she thought she could not be surprised any further, Ned Stark laid a chaste kiss on her cheek. "Thank you for keeping my words silent for all these years."

Dacey nodded and walked out of the crypts.

When she returned to her room, Dacey shed the dress and her bear fur lined cloak. Like Ned Stark, Dacey enjoyed the cold winds of the North against her skin. Breathing in the fresh air, she looked out the window and thought about what Ned Stark told her. House Manderly was formerly of the Reach before their exile. Though they kept to the Faith of the Seven, the Manderlys had proven many times that their service and loyalty lay with House Stark and the North.

With a prayer for peace of mind to the Old Gods, Dacey climbed into bed and fell asleep.

* * *

A/n: What was said in secret between Ned Stark and Dacey Mormont? Will Catelyn and Dacey ever really get along? It will be interesting to see how it plays out and I have a strong direction of what's going to happen. In the next chapter, White Harbor and House Manderly. Who knows? Smalljon Umber might make an appearance there. Stay tuned.


	7. Wolves & Bears

Honor & Fealty chapter 7

A/n: Just a heads up. This chapter will be jumping from present day to a flashback from time to time. I hope it is not too jarring or confusing. That being said, enjoy the story.

* * *

 **298 AC**

Ned Stark did not expect Catelyn to embrace the idea of Dacey Mormont having anything to do with guiding and shaping the man Robb would become. What he did not count on was Catelyn being under the impression that the word of a Northern woman in the flair of her youth whose house was sworn to his for a thousand years held more sway than the word of his own lady wife.

Before Ned could attend to the requests and quarrels of the smallfolk and the Northern houses, Catelyn gave him an earful of what was eating at her.

"We have Rodrik Cassel, Septa Mordane and Maester Luwin who have done wonders in rearing our children to become proper lords and ladies. What do the Mormont women possess that they lack?"

"Rodrik Cassel is battle tested and possesses a lifetime of martial skill. Maester Luwin and Septa Mordane have years worth of knowledge and wisdom from extensive study and training. Lady Maege Mormont and her daughters have all these attributes. However, Dacey and her sisters have a connection to our children that Cassel, Mordane and Luwin do not. They will be able to inspire them and help them embrace their Northern heritage. Why does this bother you so much?"

"It bothers me when Arya and Bran are swayed by the Mormonts to be fostered by them. Jon Snow should go to live with them, not Arya and Bran."

"They asked to be fostered on Bear Island without any influence from Dacey or Lyanna Mormont." Ned looked at Catelyn with a hard expression that matched her own. "House Mormont has kept faith to House Stark for a thousand years. They have no reason or impulse to deceive or manipulate us in any way. If Arya and Bran asked to be fostered with any house in the Riverlands sworn to House Tully, would you have shown me hostility then? Would you have protested against their fostering?"

Catelyn spat on the ground in front of Ned. "They are my children."

"They are our children, Cat. Furthermore, they are Starks and of the North."

Catelyn's face soured even more when she heard those words come from her husband's mouth.

"That sounds like something Lady Dacey Mormont would say." Catelyn scoffed. "It seems the women of Bear Island have a deep connection with more than just our children." Catelyn turned her back to Ned and walked out on him.

* * *

 **280AC**

A fourteen year old girl rode her horse hard through the woods of Bear Island, her long hair flowing behind her akin to a banner in the wind. The three year old child sat in front of her giggled with glee as they rode through the tall sentinels and soldier pines.

"Halt!"

Pulling the horse to a stop, she looked out ahead in time to see a 26 year old man approach her on his own horse with a stern look on his face that would no doubt be worn by her father upon her return to Winterfell.

"Were you planning to flee before your brother could come to see you home, my lady?"

"I wanted to ride out into the woods. I hear tell it's wonderful to feel the crisp morning air and the scent of pine while on horseback, Lord Mormont."

Looking closer, Lord Jorah Mormont fought to keep himself centered. "Is that my cousin you have with you?"

"You need not worry so much. Little Dacey is safe and sound in my arms and on my saddle. It's not wrong to have some fun in your life before you die, is it?"

"Mind your tongue, my lady. There are some who would not take your words as lightly as I." Lord Jorah Mormont said as he glanced behind the Wolf Maid, which caused the young girl to turn her head.

A thirty year old woman approached them on the back of a black horse. Her dark hued hair was unbound across her shoulders and back. Adorned over her chainmail and leather clad body was a dark bear cloak. At her right side, a mace hung from her belt. At her left, a longsword was sheathed. Though he was his father's son and Lord of Bear Island, Jorah Mormont still looked up to his aunt with reverence, both in love and fear.

Any other day, Lyanna Stark would have been thrilled to see the she-bear of House Mormont.

Instead, Lyanna Stark of Winterfell feared for her life upon seeing Lord Jorah Mormont's aunt casting a cold stare at her. "Bring my daughter to me." The warrior woman spoke in such a way that Jeor Mormont would have been proud of.

Once Lyanna Stark was close enough, Maege took Dacey onto her saddle before grabbing the Wolf Maid by the scruff of her neck and pulling her right off her horse. "Who am I, girl?"

"Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island." Lyanna shrieked as she was held in Maege's grip. The older woman was strong as a bear and everything Lyanna wanted to be. On top of that, Maege Mormont was the only woman who frightened her.

"I am also the reason Lord Rickard Stark had not sent all his soldiers across the damned North and beyond to search for his daughter who thought to run away from home in the dead of night. Remember that as you walk back to Mormont Keep, girl."

"I have to walk all the way back? Do you have any idea how far it is?"

"You are about to find that out for yourself." Maege growled. Without warning, Maege dropped Lyanna straight to the floor.

Lord Jorah Mormont knew better than to interfere with his aunt dispensing her disciplinary actions upon someone who had it coming. Thus, he kept at a close distance without taking a step forward until he heard his name.

"Jorah." Maege called, causing the Lord of Bear Island to approach swiftly. "Take Dacey back to Mormont Keep. She does not need to see a wolf pup of Winterfell whimper and beg like a whipped hound."

"Yes, my lady." Jorah said humbly as he took Dacey onto his saddle and rode off.

"Stand." Maege ordered. Lyanna got up to her feet and brushed the leaves and dirt from herself as she looked up at Maege, who pointed forward in the direction to Mormont Keep. "Now walk and stay where I can see you."

When they reached Mormont Keep, the sun had begun to set. Lyanna Stark wept from the pain in her bloodied feet and sore legs before collapsing at the gates. After dismounting her horse, Maege grabbed Lyanna up off the ground, threw her over her shoulder and carried her the rest of the way.

Despite having done what she did, Maege cared for Lyanna Stark. At the same time, the older woman had a feeling deep in her gut that the girl slung over her shoulder would not live long if she did not change her ways.

* * *

 **298AC**

Dacey was in the middle of putting the saddle on her mare in the stables of Winterfell when Sansa approached her. It often amazed Sansa how Dacey could wear her armor, leathers and cloak with the same grace that most other women wear silk dresses.

"Lady Dacey."

Dacey turned at the sound of her name to look at Sansa. The first thing Dacey noticed was her demeanor, which had changed distinctly from the night before. Instead of distress and anger, there was a shyness in her.

"Lady Sansa. What can I help you with?"

"Theon and Jon are coming with us along with several guards on our journey to White Harbor. If it is not out of your way, I would like to ride alongside you. There are things I need to talk with you about that I can not talk about with my parents, Septa Mordane or even my own siblings."

The militaristic upbringing in House Mormont helped Dacey maintain a stoic, unreadable expression. It did not mean she lacked any kindness or concern when Sansa mentioned how she could only talk with her openly about something that she considered gravely important.

"Of course. You can ride alongside me and whatever you need to speak of with me stays between us."

"Thank you." Sansa said with sincerity and relief.

When it was time, Robb rode out to join them with Jon Snow and Theon Greyjoy coming up behind them on horses. Grey Wind, Ghost and Lady emerged from the depths of the godswood to join them.

They went south on the Kingsroad from Winterfell on their way to White Harbor. To the surprise of the guards, the direwolves did not tire from the long journey. They had more endurance and stamina than what they expected.

Grey Wind and Ghost walked alongside their respective masters, Robb Stark and Jon Snow.

Near the rear of the cavalcade, Dacey Mormont and Sansa Stark rode side by side as Lady padded alongside her mistress.

Though the two women could not have been more different from each other, Dacey bore no ill will towards Sansa. In Dacey's eyes, the eldest daughter of Lord and Lady Stark was still a child who believed in all the pretty things spoken of in fairy tales as well as what was thought to be proper for young ladies to take interests in. When it came to discussing the capital, Sansa saw the beauty and grandeur of King's Landing. Dacey saw all the evils that lurked in the dark corners and out on the streets in the light of day.

Being far enough in the rear while being close enough to stay in sight, Dacey and Sansa were able to talk privately and freely with each other. This was where the more sensitive conversations began.

"Last night, you appeared upset and distressed. If I had anything to do with it, it was never my intention." Dacey started,

"It was not you who upset me, Lady Dacey. It was what my father revealed last night that had me in such a mood. It's what I could only speak to you about." Sansa explained. "I am betrothed to the eldest son of Lord Jon Umber and heir to Last Hearth."

"The Smalljon?" Dacey asked. Sansa nodded. "I know him well. Why would this news upset you? Jon Umber is a good man and a brave warrior. He will cherish you all your days and protect you against anyone who would harm you."

"If I marry him, I will be pulled so far into the North that I will never see the South. I have dreamed of going to the capital for so long. That's where all the culture, music and art is as well as the great knights I have heard tales of. I have always wanted to be a part of it all."

"Lady Sansa, you see all the glamour and charm the South has. During Robert's Rebellion, my mother saw the true face of the South when she fought alongside the Blackfish against House Targaryen. It is not pretty at all like in the fairy tales."

"Haven't you ever thought of going down there for yourself?" Sansa asked.

Dacey shook her head. "I'm a Northerner. My sisters and mother are Northerners too. We keep to the Old Gods. We are more known for our battlefield experience and honor rather than our politics and wealth. As such, our ways do not measure up to a puddle of horse piss and a bucket of pig shit in the eyes of a Southron." Sansa winced at the very visual vocabulary Dacey used to describe her contempt for the South.

"What of the King himself? He is close friends with my father. Does that not count for anything?"

"When he took the Iron Throne, I was a child of six. He would never have thought once about me or my house. What I do know is that he holds no authority over me and mine."

"He is the King on the Iron Throne and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, which includes the North. He could not be so terrible as you make him out to be. It was King Robert who gave your cousin his knighthood for the bravery he showed during the Greyjoy Rebellion at the Siege of Pyke."

Dacey was taken aback in both that her cousin was mentioned and that Sansa knew the events of the Greyjoy Rebellion that gave Jorah his knighthood. "He was one of several who got knighted after that debacle. Just because he gave my cousin the title of Ser does not garner himself the right to have my house bend the knee to him. As far as kings are concerned, Bear Island recognizes only one."

"Which king is that?" Sansa asked.

"The King of the North, whose name is Stark."

Sansa smiled at the declaration made by Dacey Mormont. "I'm touched that you think so highly of my family that we are royalty in your eyes but the monarchy of my father's ancestors ended with Torrhen Stark. There has not been a King of the North for years. Whether you agree with it or not, Robert Baratheon rules over the Realm, which includes the North."

Dacey frowned noticeably. "He won the war against the dragon. I'll give him that. He killed Rhaegar Targaryen at the Trident. I'll give him that too. He even beat the Greyjoys on the shores of their own retched homeland. I will gladly acknowledge that as well. Nevertheless, the King of Winter, the King in the North, that is the only king I mean to bend my knee to."

* * *

 **280AC**

At the age of seventeen, Eddard Stark had already accepted the fact that he was more subdued and modest than his elder brother, Brandon. It was made more clear to him when his father's bannermen called him the Quiet Wolf.

Benjen was at least humble and dutiful. It was Brandon and Lyanna who were wild, hot-blooded and boisterous in their unending quest for adventure and thrills.

Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, was at the end of his rope. He almost went to call his bannermen when a messenger raven came from Bear Island asking him to send the Quiet Wolf to visit Lord Jorah Mormont regarding a lost Wolf Maiden.

It did not take long for Rickard Stark to figure it out; Lyanna Stark ran away to Bear Island.

What Maege Mormont did not mention in the letter was how Lyanna dove into the cold water and swam from Deepwood Motte to Bear Island all on her own or that she rode off through the woods by herself without any bowmen or guards with a child of 3 tender years on her lap.

For reasons only the late Lyarra Stark could ever know let alone understand, Rickard Stark did not yell or shout at his only daughter's rebellious spirit. One look at his face was all that Ned needed to see how serious it was. "I'll go to Bear Island and bring Lyanna home, father. Perhaps she will listen to me."

"My son, you stand a better chance at fighting the Others with a club and a makeshift shield of decayed wood than trying to talk sense into your wolf-blooded sister." Rickard said. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, the Old Wolf gave the marching orders to Ned. "Go to Bear Island with a contingent of guards. When you are with Lyanna, say your peace. Then come home to Winterfell."

"Yes, father." Ned said solemnly with a bow of his head before he went out to prepare for the long ride to Deepwood Motte, where House Glover would have a boat ready for him to board.

* * *

 **298AC**

When they got to White Harbor, Ser Wendel of House Manderly was there to greet them with warm gusto and a cordial invite to the Merman's Court for a grand feast made bountiful from what was caught in the depths of the Narrow Sea. He led them to New Castle where they could rest from their long journey.

While Dacey bore no contempt for House Manderly and no cause to question their guest right's value, her heart was heavy. It also bothered her, much to her surprise, that Robb would be so far away from her. When they arrived at New Castle, the seat of House Manderly, Ser Wendel took Robb to the Walrus Chamber, a place where no wandering eyes or prying ears could follow.

Dacey, Theon, Jon and Sansa along with the Winterfell guards and the three direwolves were led to the Merman's Court, where preparations were being made for the great feast being held that evening in honor of the visitors from Winterfell.

"Lady Dacey, you look worried. Is something the matter?" Sansa said as she held Dacey's hand in hers. "It is nothing of concern. I am constantly alert and in a state of ready in case anything happens."

Sansa leaned in and whispered, "I'm not so much a child that I could not see what is plain as day, Lady Dacey. You love my brother." The chaste kiss Sansa gave Dacey on her cheek was enough to unnerve the she-bear.

From a distance, Jon watched Dacey's facial expressions and they all seemed to carry a sense of worry. Like Robb, Jon learned about what could bring a smile to a Mormont woman's face. As luck would have it, there were several barrels of White Harbor's famous black beer being brought into the hall. After speaking with the servants and procuring a large mug, Jon brought to Dacey a frothy mug of cool, refreshing black beer. "A good drink can slake your thirst and wash away your worry, my lady, or so I have been told."

The gesture succeeded in brightening Dacey's mood and bringing a smile to her face. She took the mug in one hand while pulling Jon close, giving him a one armed hug. "You are such a sweet boy, Jon." Dacey whispered into his ear as she kissed the top of his head tenderly.

Theon thought to say something but held his tongue. The beating he received at the hands of Lady Maege Mormont's eldest daughter still resonated in his bones. Since then, he learned to think before speaking. So he kept quiet and watched how Dacey held Jon to her side as if he were one of her own.

Though he would inherit no titles or lands, Jon Snow's lot in life was greater than that of Balon Greyjoy's only living son.

"How was your life growing up on Bear Island?" Jon asked in an attempt to distract Dacey from her worries. Sansa and Jon led Dacey to a nearby table. Theon joined them a while later as did Lady and Ghost.

Dacey smiled over her mug of black beer. "It was never dull. There was always something to do whether it was to defend the island or hold down Mormont Keep. Since Alysane and I were the eldest, we were the ones our mother taught first. Lady Maege Mormont was the She-Bear of House Mormont long before anyone gave her the title. One time, she caught me and Aly fighting with each other over a fish that took both of us to pull in. I was ten and she was nine."

"What did your mother do?" Sansa asked. She expected something traditional like a knock upside the head or a slap.

"She made us punch and kick each other until we could not do it any longer. Once we both were sore from head to foot, she took our horses and the fish we caught before making us walk all the way back home. One moment, we were fighting with each other. The next moment, we had to help each other get home. We never fought like that ever again."

"Your mother made you and your sister fight each other?" Theon asked incredulously.

"She made us beat each other to where we understood the consequences of fighting. It's a long walk on foot through the woods to Mormont Keep." Dacey said before taking a pull from her mug of beer.

"Arya is rather unruly and Bran has taken to climbing as far up as the rafters of Winterfell in spite of the many times Mother has told him not to do it. Is that going to change when they get to Bear Island?" Sansa asked.

"Many things will change in Winterfell and on Bear Island as will Robb, Bran, Arya. Perhaps you will change too, Sansa." Dacey said before looking Jon Snow in the eye and saying, "Yes, even you, Jon."

Before anyone could ask anything else, Robb returned to them with a despondent look on his face. Grey Wind ran up to him as everyone else did. "Robb, what is the matter?" Jon asked.

"What did Ser Wendel tell you?" Sansa asked.

Robb was silent for a moment before he spoke in a rather detached tone, "We are to sit with his family at the high table as their guests of honor."

Looking at his sister, his half brother, Theon and Dacey, Robb managed a small smile. "They caught all kinds of great fish and creatures from the Narrow Sea. We'll have our fill tonight. I'm certain of that."

Theon, Jon, Sansa and Dacey were all curious as to what went on between Ser Wendel Manderly and Robb Stark but none of them thought to ask anything.

Then Robb surprised them when he spoke again. "Dacey, may I speak with you outside for a moment?"

"Of course." Dacey Mormont said as she and Grey Wind walked out alongside Robb Stark.

* * *

 **280AC**

Eddard 'Ned' Stark of Winterfell was received by Jorah Mormont, the Lord of Bear Island and head of House Mormont. Though they were Northmen, there was no real bond between them other than the oath of fealty sworn by House Mormont and Bear Island to House Stark of Winterfell.

"How is she, Lord Mormont?" Ned asked.

"Your sister is well enough though she did cross my aunt, Maege Mormont, when she took her eldest daughter out for a horse ride through the woods without leave or permission."

"How old is her eldest daughter?"

"Dacey Mormont? She is a child of three tender years. I took her back home while Maege made Lyanna walk back to Mormont Keep."

"That sounds rather extreme for her antics." Ned said with the tone of an overprotective brother.

"With the greatest of respects due to you and your family, I fear your sister will never be tamed."

"I have prayed many times to the Old Gods that she would one day chose to change her ways for her own well being." Ned replied with a solemn tone of defeat in his voice as if knowing that such a thing would never happen.

Upon their arrival at Mormont Keep, Jorah escorted Ned to Maege Mormont's chambers, where Lyanna was recuperating on a warm, soft cot. Her feet and legs were bandaged.

Maege Mormont rose up to her feet in acknowledgement of her nephew and the Quiet Wolf.

"Eddard Stark of Winterfell." She said kindly.

"Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island." Ned spoke with an unreadable tone in his voice. "I was told by Lord Mormont what happened. Was it necessary?"

"I put the bandages on her feet and treated her wounds myself, Ned. As for why I had to bandage her feet and legs, it was nothing more than what your lord father would have done himself. The rod was spared on her one too many times." Maege Mormont said as she and Ned stared down each other.

"You chose to discipline my sister." Ned said rhetorically.

"An act long overdue and your father would not have disputed the matter like you are with me." Maege said as she raised a hand and ran her fingers through the younger man's hair. "One day, Gods be good, should you ever become a father yourself, you will understand what it means to discipline children."

Lyanna kept quiet the whole time as her brother and Maege spoke together.

The moment was broken when the sounds of an infant's cries rang out. "If you will excuse me, Lord Stark, I must tend to Dacey and Alysane."

"I will leave you both. I'm sure you have much to discuss." Jorah said before taking his leave.

* * *

 **298AC**

"Robb, what is the matter?" Dacey asked as she and Grey Wind walked alongside Robb outside the Merman's Court.

"I am no longer betrothed to the Golden Rose of Highgarden. Ser Wendel had certain contacts in the Reach who reported to him that Margaery Tyrell and her brother, Loras Tyrell, were sent to live at Storm's End, the ancestral seat of House Baratheon, under the care of King Robert's youngest brother, Lord Renly."

"Do you believe it?"

Robb nodded silently. "It was organized by Lord Mace Tyrell, the Warden of the South. I guess he wants his daughter to become Queen of the Seven Kingdoms rather than Lady of Winterfell."

"That kind of information is rather close knit to only family members of..."

Dacey stopped herself before finishing that sentence. Robb leaned in and whispered into Dacey's ear what he could not say out loud. "Willas Tyrell. He traveled like a refugee to White Harbor so as to speak with Ser Wendel. By the time he gets back, I imagine he's going to catch all kinds of hell from the rest of his family."

"Never mind them. I'm more concerned about you. How did you take this news?" Dacey asked.

"I never knew her as a person. Only stories about her. It did sting that my lack of ambition for the Iron Throne is why her betrothal to me was both kept in secret and then thrown asunder so easily."

Dacey cupped Robb's face in her hands so he had no choice but to look her in the eye. "Damn the Baratheons, the Tyrells and that damned Iron Throne to the deepest pits of the Seven Hells. It's their loss, not yours. Robb Stark, you are a better man on your worst day than the Baratheons and Tyrells on their best day. Come what may, I will always stand at your side."

Robb could not help but notice how beautiful Dacey Mormont was, both in body and spirit. "I am blessed to have you with me, Dacey Mormont."

Dacey leaned in to kiss Robb on the cheek. In a move that must have been prompted by the Old Gods, Robb turned slightly and kissed her. The contact of their lips sent a sensation through both their bodies.

Grey Wind's excited whine was enough to break the moment, causing both Dacey Mormont and Robb Stark to take a step back. Though the surprise was evident in their face, there was not a hint of regret.

* * *

 **280AC**

"Is Father angry at me?" Lyanna asked as Ned sat down at her bedside.

"He is angry with you but he could never be mad at you, Lya." Ned said as he took Lyanna into his arms. No matter how wild she was in spirit or blood, Lyanna loved to be hugged by Ned.

"Of the four of us, you would make the best parent. I would love to see you with a newborn child in your arms and a lady wife at your side. Wouldn't that be a sight to behold?"

Ned laughed softly. "Brandon is sooner to be wed before anyone thinks to wed their daughters to the likes of me."

"Sweet Ned, you do not give yourself the credit you deserve. There is someone for anyone and everyone. As long as you don't get the idea of taking the black, there is still the opportunity for you."

For as long as he could remember, no matter what she did, Ned Stark could not find it in himself to ever be angry at or with his sister, Lyanna Stark. He would always love her.

"Why did you run away?" Ned asked.

"Father spoke to the Maester about making a betrothal for me. I did not want to become some subdued lady to a lord and be expected to just keep house and look pretty. That is not the life for me, Ned."

"So you would rather ride out into the wilderness with a sword at your side, the reins in both hands and your hair flying in the wind?" Ned japed while knowing that he just spelled out what Lyanna wanted most out of life.

"All of that and more. It's all I ever wanted. To be free and ride out wherever I want."

"Well, for now, you and I are to journey back to Winterfell. Can you walk?"

Lyanna looked at her legs and asked, "Can you help me, dear brother?"

"Always." Ned said as he scooped Lyanna up from the bed and carried her out to the guards that came with him. "I will always care for you."

"Promise me?" Lyanna asked.

"I promise."

* * *

 **298AC**

Arya and Lyanna continued to give Septa Mordane more than she could handle during the tutoring sessions though the bear cub helped the wolf pup study and improve on her embroidery. In doing this, they were allowed their freedom around the courtyards and the godswood for training and prayers.

"Jorelle once loosed an arrow right into an Ironborn raider's eye at 90 yards. It was the first time she ever drew blood from a man."

"What happened after that?"

"She put an arrow through the other one." Lyanna said as she and Arya practiced their accuracy with their bows and arrows. Arya and Lyanna both did very well in getting the arrows at the bulls eye.

The differences between the two of them were few but distinctive. Arya was left handed and Lyanna was right handed. While Arya reveled in her accomplishment, Lyanna hand another arrow knocked and the bow drawn back. "The target can not move. Ironborn raiders and Wildings, they move about all the time and they can cast arrows too." Having said that, Lyanna loosed her arrow and it split the arrow previously shot by Arya straight down the middle.

Arya looked at Lyanna with a look of admiration. "Did your mother teach you that?"

Lyanna nodded. "Those Ironborn shits sail up from the south, constantly trying to take from us what we worked for. The Wildlings come down from the deep North trying to do the same. Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island taught me and all my sisters that we fight not for dominion over anything but for the preservation of our people and defense of our home."

"It's going to be so much fun living with you on Bear Island." Arya said.

Lyanna looked Arya in the face. "Do not fool yourself, Arya Stark. My mother is not the Lady of Bear Island solely by name and family relation. She has led soldiers into constant battle and she has trained them herself. It's going to be an adventure for you and Bran just to endure her rigorous training. As well, Robb Stark and Jon Snow better prepare themselves. Dacey was the first one trained among myself, Alysane, Lyra and Jorelle. She will run your brothers hard just like my mother will with you and Bran. Winter is coming." Lyanna Mormont said firmly.

"And yet here we stand." Arya replied with resolve in her voice.

Lyanna Mormont and Arya Stark stared at each other for a moment before they both smiled at each other, knocked arrows onto their bows, took aim and fired at the same target.

* * *

A/n: Sorry for the long delay. This chapter took many twists and turns before it came out just right. Who else thought it was awesome that Lyanna and Arya would use each other's house words so skillfully?


	8. The Blackfish

Honor & Fealty chapter 8

A/n: To my surprise, this chapter was a thrill to write. I am not sure if it's because the story is really starting to come together or that the details seem to finally click but the momentum is starting to rise. Either way, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I think you will.

* * *

Being the Knight of the Bloody Gate was bloody boring at best.

It was not like everyone in the Realm was runing over each other in a mad rush to get into the Eyrie.

Yet in spite of the silent crypt that was the passway towards the Bloody Gate, Lord Jon Arryn of the Vale chose him to be commander of the Bloody Gate. A part of Brynden began to believe that this was Hoster Tully's way of screwing him over for not falling in line.

He was sick of it all.

Sick of looking at rocks and a clear blue sky without one cloud in sight. The mind numbing stillness of the terrain was like having boils all over his skin.

Most of all, Ser Brynden of House Tully, the Blackfish, the Knight of the Bloody Gate, was sick of being an ornamental knight.

What was the point of being a knight if his skills were not put to use for something other than training soldiers to pace around and look out into the horizon at nothing?

In the days where he had nothing else to do, he reminisced of better days long since past.

The War of the Ninepenny Kings felt like another lifetime ago. For most others who only heard of the battles fought against Maelys Blackfyre and the Band of Nine across the Stepstones, it was history and legend.

For Brynden, it was a part of his life. Some of his greatest days were when he fought alongside such great men as Ser Barristan Selmy, who won the day by slaying Maelys the Monstrous.

Among the many he fought alongside were men who would make history and become living legends in their own time.

Tywin Lannister, who was knighted after the war and would later become the Warden of the West. Tywin would serve, for a time, as Hand of the King to a man who also fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings.

His name was Aerys II Targaryen. Westeros would one day know him by a very distinct moniker.

The Mad King.

Ormund Baratheon and his son, Steffon, fought side by side against Maelys the Monstrous. When Ormund died on the battlefield, Steffon Baratheon became lord of Storm's End.

Steffon would have three sons. His eldest, Robert, would go on to raise a rebellion against the Targaryens known as Robert's Rebellion to some and The War of the Usurper to others.

When Robert Baratheon killed Prince Rhaegar at the Battle of the Trident, the Targaryen family line was forever cut. The rubies that fell from Rhaegar's armor mingled with the blood shed from his body and sank deep into what would be called by some as the Ruby Ford.

As for Robert Baratheon, he would callously step over the corpses of Elia and her children on his way to the Iron Throne in the Red Keep, where he would rule over Westeros as King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

It was a violent time to live through. Many people on both sides perished and Ser Brynden Tully could not think of any other place he would have wanted to be than in the thick of the action.

Looking up into the vast sky, Brynden Tully spoke as if he was throwing a challenge to the Gods, whoever they were. "This can not truly be my final post in life. If there's anyone out there who would bother to hear an old war dog's prayer, I need some real action before my wrinkled arse hits the dirt."

In that moment, as if they were calling him on that challenge, a messenger raven landed right in front of him. Feeding the bird a handful of corn, Brynden took the message from its leg.

 _Dearest Uncle Brynden,_

 _I could not send this to my father, Edmure or even Lysa. Whenever I was troubled, I could always count on you. If it is possible for you to make the long journey from the Vale to Winterfell, please come to me. I must see you right away. There are things that are happening to my family and I am powerless to do anything about it. Come to Winterfell and I will tell you everything._

 _Your niece,_

 _Catelyn Stark, Lady of Winterfell_

Brynden was not a learned man but he was educated and observant enough to tell from the handwriting and the way that the parchment appeared almost torn and wrinkled that Catelyn was more than upset over something.

With Lord Arryn's approval along with a provision of food and drink as thanks for his service, Ser Brynden of House Tully resigned his post as Commander of the Bloody Gate, packed his personal effects, mounted his faithful cob and rode out for the Kingsroad.

By the time he reached the intersection of the River Road and the Kingsroad, the Bloody Gate and the Vale were both well behind him. It was the first time in far too long since he could breathe the fresh air and he drank it in as if it were the richest Dornish Red.

Turning his eyes north, Brynden released a sigh of relief and rode towards the Neck, thanking the Gods that he didn't have to go through the Crossings and suffer the likes of Lord Walder Frey and the rest of his lecherous brood of children, grandchildren and bastards.

While most other Southrons were hesitant to go on the Kingsroad through the Neck to the North, Brynden had no reservations against it.

Crossing through the causeway led him right into the Neck, where the murky water hid quicksand beneath it's murky countenance along with the many creatures lurking between the two. He had not gone farther than five feet down the causeway through the Neck when he was approached by two children dressed in green clothes. Considering how small the crannogmen were, it would have been easy to mistake most of their adults for children.

"Ser Brynden Tully. I am Jojen Reed, son of Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch. This is my sister, Meera. We told our father you would be arriving. He has arranged for your safe passage to Moat Cailin but he wishes to speak with you beforehand."

"How did you know I was coming? You haven't been intercepting any ravens lately, have you?" Brynden asked suspiciously.

"I saw you coming. We thought to help you. It's a long journey to Winterfell. You ought to get some rest before you go see Lady Stark."

"How exactly will you be helping me, boy?" Brynden asked.

"Meera and I will tend to your horse. When you cross the Neck, your faithful cob will be waiting for you north of Moat Cailin."

From out of nowhere, thirty crannogmen and their spear wives surrounded Brynden at all sides. Even as he dismounted his horse, Brynden Tully still stood head and shoulders over all of them.

One of them, a woman who was no taller than Brynden's hip, took the Blackfish by the hand and led him to a nearby boat. "It is as much a risk to wade in these waters as it is to drink from them. No harm will come to you though, Ser Tully. Lord Howland has tokens of guest right prepared for your arrival."

Brynden climbed into the boat, which was not as rickety as it looked, and sat down carefully before the crannogmen pushed it forward. The woman and two rowers maneuvered them through the marshes towards the headwaters of the Green Fork. Before they disappeared into the deep parts of the Neck, Brynden saw Meera and Jojen led his horse through the narrow causeway.

* * *

No one knew what Greywater Watch looked like. No one ever saw it. No one ever found it.

Neither did Brynden Tully.

They sailed him to a small floating island where a tent was set and a fire burned softly with food cooking over it. The man who sat at the fire was 5 feet 7 inches tall with stubble on his cheek. The rest of his face was hidden under his green hooded cloak. A bow sat at his left alongside a quiver of arrows. In his hands was a two pronged spear.

"Welcome to the Neck, Ser Brynden of House Tully. Or do you prefere Blackfish? It's often hard to tell how I am to address those with many names." Howland said politely.

Brynden smirked. "Considering how I'm in a good mood right now, I will allow you to address me as Ser Brynden. Seeing as you would acknowledge my rank as a knight, I will recognize your rank in equal measure, Lord Howland Reed."

Howland looked at him silently for a moment before reaching into his tent and bringing out two mugs of beer. "To days left behind and better days still to come."

He never expected to get a mug of beer from Howland Reed. On the other hand, Brynden Tully had to remind himself that the Crannogmen were, if not anything else, unpredictable and resourceful. Taking a mug in hand, Brynden quipped, "And to right now for not being dead yet."

With a clash of their mugs, they drank heartily.

"How did you find your journey here, Ser Brynden?" Howland asked as he cooked the fish and fattened frogs over a spit.

"The air is thick with wet moss and I almost went mad from the constant croaking of frogs, the creaks of crickets, the hisses of serpents and the movement of lizard lions beneath the water's surface. Having been Commander of the Bloody Gate for longer than I would ever want to count, I can only say one thing about the Neck." Brynden spoke with a frown on his face before he devoured his fish and washed it down with a generous gulp of beer and smiled. "I fucking love it."

"You have quite the sense of humor. Is that why your brother shunned you? Because he couldn't laugh?"

"How do you know that?" Brynden asked suspiciously.

"My son told me and yet I still do not know for certain what he meant by it."

Brynden scoffed. "My brother tried to pull me off the battlefield by arranging a marriage between myself and Bethany Redwyne. I refused. He shunned me."

Howland stood up from his chair and looked out onto the marsh lands of the Neck. "Your brother, Lord Hoster, may be the last of his bloodline to rule over the Riverlands."

"What makes you say that?" Brynden asked incredulously.

"My son, Jojen, has seen many things. Your brother's health will fail him and he will die within a year or so without a suitable successor to Riverrun. Lysa Arryn will be lost to dementia within the year. Then again, perhaps she already has. Edmure will become a stain upon the name of House Tully. If there is not a suitable heir to rule from Riverrun, the other houses will vie with one another by sword or coin in order to ascend to power. If not them, the Ironborn will see the lack of leadership and order as their opportunity to take the Riverlands by force."

"What of Catelyn? What happens to her?" Brynden asked. It was more than upsetting that such misfortunes would befall his brother, his niece Lysa and his nephew Edmure. What terrible fate was in store for Ned Stark's wife?

"No matter what name she goes by, Catelyn Stark will always be Hoster Tully's daughter." Howland Reed spoke with resignation as he sighed. "It's getting late. Rest well. You have a long road ahead of you, Ser Brynden."

Brynden was about to protest when he felt himself become sleepy. The world fell out from under him and everything went dark.

* * *

The heat and light of the sun rising in the eastern horizon, the smell of a rabbit cooking on a spit over a fire and the whinny of a horse was enough to wake Ser Brynden from his slumber.

He rose to find himself in the ruins of Moat Cailin.

Looking outside, he saw the two children of Howland Reed standing by his horse, which was alive and well just as they promised.

Storming out of the Gatehouse Tower with his sword drawn, he was ready to unleash his fury on the Reeds until he found himself staring down the arrow Meera had aimed at his head.

"Take one more step and I will send you to meet the Stranger, Blackfish." Meera said.

Any other day, Brynden Tully would have laughed at her brash attitude. This was not one of those days. "How in the Bloody Seven Fucks did your father manage to knock me out without so much as one punch thrown?!"

"The fish you ate was soaked in the sleeping drought. It was slow acting so as to not put you to sleep right away. Would you care for some rabbit, Ser Tully? My sister suggested you get the rump because you bay in the likeness of a mule when you sleep." Jojen said with a deadpan tone as he extended the cooked rabbit before him.

"You mean to say a sound like an ass when I snore?" Brynden asked. Meera tilted her head and shrugged. After sheathing his sword, Brynden took a knife from his side and spoke not a word as he carved out the choicest part of the rabbit and skewered it before lifting the cooked meat to his mouth and taking a tenuous bite. Sensing nothing foul in the taste and texture, Brynden feasted on the rabbit. Jojen then offered him a cup. "Fresh water from the White Knife. Nothing more."

Brynden looked at him with suspicion. Jojen took a drink from it to show that it was safe.

Brynden washed down the rabbit with the water offered to him. "Your father says you can see things."

"So do you, Ser. You have a pair of eyes like all the rest of us."

"Don't get smart with me, boy. Do you have some bone to pick with me or House Tully that you would slander them?"

Jojen shook his head. "No, Ser. I have not any issue with your family. I only regret that their reign will come to a sad end."

"Why will my family's reign in the Riverlands end?"

"There is no one fit in House Tully to hold rank in Riverrun after Hoster Tully dies." Jojen said as he walked over to Brynden's horse and walked it over to him. "The trouts will be devoured in one way or another. Just as summer turns to autumn and day turns to night, the fall of House Tully from the pedestal of power in the Riverlands shall give rise to another."

"Why do you talk in riddles? Speak clearly." Brynden snapped.

Without even flinching at the elder man, Jojen calmly handed Brynden the reigns to his horse. "Go to Winterfell. You will find answers there." Jojen replied before he and Meera walked through the causeway and vanished into the Neck.

"Next time, I'll just hop a boat on the Narrow Sea if I want to go north." Brynden Tully muttered to himself as he mounted his horse and rode off on the Kingsroad into the North.

Several yards down, Brynden came across his niece's eldest son and daughter as well as Ned Stark's bastard, Jon Snow and the ward of Winterfell, Theon Greyjoy.

The only one among their number who was a stranger to him was the dark haired woman in leather and armor.

* * *

The feast held in White Harbor was one that none of them would ever forget.

It was also one where they were not allowed to leave empty handed or without the scent of fish and seafood upon them.

Theon would have been expected to be accustomed to sea food and fish but even he had to take several baths to not smell like he spent five nights in a whale's belly.

Grey Wind, Ghost and Lady walked together with their masters and mistress.

Much to Sansa and Jon's amusement, Dacey and Robb rode together at the helm of the column since they left White Harbor. They weren't holding hands but they were close enough that no one could come between them.

Though they were deep in their talk with one another about the new training regimens that would certainly be in store for both him and Jon, Robb and Dacey spoke silently about the kiss they shared outside the Merman's Court. There was nothing platonic about it and even Grey Wind knew it. In spite of the myriad of thoughts going through their heads, Robb and Dacey were the first to notice Ser Brynden of House Tully on the Kingsroad.

"Uncle Brynden!" Robb said as he and Sansa rode up to greet their great uncle.

Brynden thought to ask about where they were coming from until he smelt the sea air and the fish from the carts behind them. It was clear to him that they were coming from White Harbor.

"It's good to see you both. Where did you come across direwolves? They haven't been seen for centuries." Brynden said as he looked warily at Grey Wind, Ghost and Lady.

"Their mother died getting them south of the Wall. Robb found them along with Jon and Bran. Six pups for the six of us." Sansa explained.

Looking to the dark haired woman in a bear cloak, Brynden addressed her directly. "If I were to go by the sigil on your armor and the mace at your side, I would suspect you are perhaps a relation to Lady Maege Mormont. Am I right, my lady?"

"Lady Dacey Mormont of Bear Island. The eldest daughter of Maege Mormont, the Lady of Bear Island."

"You have your mother's gaze on you, Lady Mormont. Certainly her spirit and grit to spare." Brynden said with a smile. Dacey smiled at his charm. "I am Ser Brynden of House Tully."

"You are the Blackfish my mother has spoken of so often? It's a privilege to meet you at long last." Dacey said as she looked over the older man with respect.

"What brings you to the North, Ser Brynden?" Sansa asked.

"I am on my way to see your mother, Sansa. In light of the things I have heard in my journeys so far, I have more reason to see her."

"Is something the matter?" Robb asked.

"Nothing, Robb. A long overdue change of pace is what I needed as well as visiting family."

* * *

A/n: (drops the mic) BOOM!

A/n: Thanks to Marvelmyra for correcting me on what to call a group of travelers.


	9. Discussions

Honor & Fealty chapter 9

* * *

Upon his return from White Harbor, Willas was met by a furious Mace Tyrell and a silently upset Lady Olenna.

The only sources of moral support he had at his disposal were Ser Garlan Tyrell, his younger brother, and his mother, Lady Alerie Tyrell.

Before that tumultuous family reunion, he had received a more amiable reception upon his arrival at the Blackwater Bay. Lady Margaery, his little sister embraced him while his youngest brother, Loras, stood at a distance alongside the Lord of Storm's End, Renly of House Baratheon, though the look on the former's face seemed to be an omen to what would be waiting at Highgarden.

Only after being verbally dragged across the coals did Willas seek refuge in the godswood with several of his beloved hounds.

Unlike most of the smallfolk, septons, septas and nobility in Westeros, the hawks, horses and hounds in his care never judged him for anything he ever did. They loved him unconditionally and he loved them in turn.

"For the longest time, I thought you and Garlan had more sense than your father and Loras. It seems that even learned men who are possessed of good sense can be fools."

"You know my reasons, grandmother. Right or wrong, I refuse to apologize for them to either my father or even you." Willas said as he moved over so Lady Olenna could sit next to him.

"You have high marks for audacity and low marks for personal judgment."

Looking towards the three weirwood trees in the godswood, Willas gathered his thoughts and calmed himself before speaking. "It was disrespectful to lead House Stark on with a secret betrothal that would never happen. Out of respect to him and his family, Robb Stark deserved to hear it from a Tyrell rather than from some lowly messenger. It was happenstance that he was in White Harbor visiting House Manderly at the time of my arrival."

"There are messenger ravens and squires for a reason, Willas. It does not lower you as a man to use them." Olenna spoke calmly before asking, "How did the boy take to hearing the dismissal of his betrothal to Margaery?"

"Dry eyes, grandmother, though he did look disappointed. They never met each other so no connection was made between them."

"He seems to have inherited his lord father's lack of ambition." Olenna commented dryly before asking the most pertinent question on her mind. "Who gave you the foolish idea of sneaking away to White Harbor?" Olenna asked as Willas petted his hounds.

"No one. I was in need of a holiday from the Reach. Though I am the heir to Highgarden, I have as much authority as the smallfolk of the fields with their plows and pick axes."

"Your day will come. When it does, I pray that you will not act in the likeness of your father."

Willas held his grandmother's hand in his as he looked around at his surroundings. "I like it here in the godswood. It's much more open and much less restrictive than the sept. The air is soft and soothing. Most of all, I'm not forced to suffer any haughty, hypocritical, sanctimonious septons."

It did not go unnoticed by Olenna when she saw Willas looking at the weirwood trees as he said this. "Willas, have you lost your sense?"

"I am not my father and I will not have anyone mistake me for him. If I am to stand out on my own and show the realm that I am not Mace or Luthor Tyrell, this is how I shall do it."

"I may not have much stock in religion but the smallfolk will paint you as a heretic for abandoning the Seven to embrace the Old Gods as your own."

"Most of them whisper familiar names behind my back as it is. The smallfolk will whisper about anything and everything. What difference would this make?"

"If they find that you have chosen to embrace the faith held by the brutish Northmen and forsake the Seven, you will lose favor with them."

"I never went looking for anyone's favor or pity. That has not changed." Willas said as he took up his cane and walked away, his hound padding along at his side.

* * *

In the Small Sept of Winterfell, Brynden stood patiently as he waited for Catelyn to get the first word in.

"Have you gone to see him?" Catelyn asked. "Father would have spoken to you. At the very least, he would have listened to you."

"That old man is stubborn as the day is long. As for him hearing one thing I have to say, he'd have to be on his deathbed for that to happen." Brynden said roughly.

"Why did you refuse to marry? Why would you turn your back on your brother's wishes?"

"It was a choice I made. Even if I did grow to love Lady Redwyne, there would always be that one other thing in my life."

"What is it?" Catelyn asked.

"I was trained to be a knight. When I was given my knighthood, it was in a time when knighthood meant more than prestige, pageantry and popularity. I fought alongside men who became living legends in their own time while laying to rest some who have seen few winters. Good or bad, those memories and experiences made me stronger and wiser than what I would have become if I kept to Hoster's wishes. I would not give back one moment of those events in my life. Not even if your father, my brother, demanded it himself."

Catelyn grimaced. "What is wrong, sweetling?" Brynden asked.

"Arya and Bran seem to have inherited your adventurous spirit. Ned would never profess it but there are times I see him look at Arya with pride and fear at the same time. No matter how many times I tell him not to, Bran can not seem to stop climbing the ramparts of Winterfell."

"It sounds like they are children with minds of their own. From what I could tell, Bran might have inherited my spirit but I think Arya inherited the spirit of another." Brynden said as he knelt down and held Catelyn's hands in his calloused, scarred and aged hands. "What troubles you so?"

"Arya and Bran have both asked to be fostered with House Mormont on Bear Island."

"Why would that bother you so much? It's practically a hop, skip and stone's throw away from Winterfell. You'll know where they are every moment of the day. Most of all, I know Lady Maege Mormont well enough. She can be the toughest commander in the realm when she needs to be and a mother bear when she wants to be."

"You approve of this?" Catelyn asked incredulously.

"Arya and Bran must learn that choices and actions have consequences. You may mean well but it will require someone other than you or their father to teach them this difficult lesson. I can think of few better than Maege Mormont to do it. She has five daughters and raised them all to become warrior women. She will not be soft on them but Lady Mormont would not let anything or anyone harm them."

Though Catelyn saw the logic in her uncle's words, she also knew that meant Arya was more Stark than Tully. "I am not Lady Maege Mormont. I never wanted my children to be like hers. I wanted Arya to be a proper lady. She keeps fighting me at every turn."

Standing up to look at her, Brynden spoke directly to his niece. "Have you ever thought of what she wants to be?"

Upon seeing the whites in Catelyn's eyes, Brynden continued.

"Hoster tried to turn me into a Lord of some keep with a lady wife, castellans, maesters, septs and smallfolk as well as a pack of children he could call his nephews and nieces. None of that happened. Instead, I chose my own path and became a legend in my own right. Perhaps not so grand as Ser Barristan the Bold but well enough that there's not a soldier or squire out there who would not bow his head to me out of respect."

In that moment, Brynden realized what Howland Reed's words meant.

Catelyn was truly Hoster Tully's daughter; she was demanding and equally stubborn.

"You can not force your children into something they do not want or to be something they are not. If you continue down that path, all you will succeed at is pushing them away. What then? Will you call Arya and Bran the Rebel Wolf Pups?" Brynden asked.

Catelyn could not bring herself to speak after hearing what her uncle was telling her.

"I spoke to Lady Dacey Mormont while on the Kingsroad. Ned Stark has charged her with training, tutoring and guiding Robb Stark into being a proper lord. Is that true?"

Catelyn nodded. "It seems the wolf values the word of a bear more than those of a trout."

"Whether you care to admit it or not, Robb is a Stark. He may have been born in Riverrun, he may have inherited the Tully coloring but even I can tell that he is more wolf than trout. He is a Northerner just as Sansa, Arya, Bran and little Rickon are. In the respect, House Mormont knows it and you are refusing to accept it."

For a long time, Catelyn knew all this to be true but chose to deny it. Hearing such things from her uncle Brynden only made it more evident.

That did not make the truth any less bitter on her tongue as she spoke it at long last.

"None of my children are Tullys. They never were or ever will be."

"That may turn out to be a blessing for them." Turning towards the alter, Brynden prayed for the strength to keep his mouth shut on the big secrets he kept behind his tongue.

He was almost at the door when Catelyn said, "Do you think it's right?"

"With Arya and Bran being fostered on Bear Island or Dacey Mormont making a man out of Robb Stark?"

"Both."

Ser Brynden the Blackfish turned to face Catelyn and smiled. "In my life, I have fought many battles and stood by great soldiers. Lady Mormont was the only woman I could stand with on the battlefield, knowing that she could hold her own and keep me alive. If I can trust her with my life, trust her daughters with the lives of your children."

* * *

The Rivermen may have their ponds, creeks, streams and little rivers. As far as she was concerned, the Southrons could keep them.

Lyra Mormont had the Bay of Ice and that was enough for her. After her daily chores, combat training and studies, she was given leisure time, which was rare for her even in times when Bear Island was not being raided by wildlings or the Ironborn.

A year ago, she started swimming in the cold waters. She never stopped since that time.

Though she enjoyed the exhilaration of swimming in the cold waters, Lyra longed for the day when Jon Snow would work up the nerve and join her.

Ever since the first day she met him years ago, Lyra took an immediate interest in Jon Snow in spite of how Lady Stark always seemed to give him the cold shoulder.

Lyra was only one year older than him and Robb Stark. As they grew up, her feelings for Jon changed from friendly to more than friendly.

Thinking of Jon made her blood run hot. Upon returning to her boat, Lyra rose out from the depths, wrapped her body in her bear cloak, laid herself down and began fondling herself while fantasizing about Jon swimming out in the Bay of Ice to take her maidenhead. The more she felt her own hands across her body, the more she wanted it to be Jon's hands on her.

Lyra was almost about to finish herself off when an arrow fell from the sky and embedded itself right at the helm of her boat.

Jorelle's archery was improving with every day.

Upon completion, Lyra unbound the parchment tied to the arrow and read the contents.

The moment her boat was docked on the eastern shores of Bear Island, Lyra was met by her younger sister, Jorelle Mormont astride her palfrey. "How did you know I was out here?" Lyra asked. Jorelle smiled at her older sister. "Alysane told me you were out here while I was playing with Sarea. Did you at least bother to put on smallclothes before going out for a swim?" Jorelle asked.

Lyra smiled at her sister before opening her cloak in response. "They would have weighed me down, Jory." Lyra replied with a smile, using the nickname she and her sisters had for Jorelle, who shook her head in amazement at Lyra's liberal abandon when it came to swimming.

"Have you thought about who might be out there?" Jorelle asked as she got off her horse so Lyra could get on.

"I have thought about that. Then I remember." Lyra said as she mounted the horse and took Jorelle onto the rear of the saddle.

"What exactly do you remember, Lyra?" Jorelle asked.

"The Starks rule the North. I could walk naked through the Wolfswood to Winterfell without being bothered, threatened or harmed in any way. Even the beasts of the Wolfswood would leave me be because we are sworn to House Stark."

"I'm sure you would strike Jon Snow blind if he were to see you walking to Winterfell wearing only a smile on your face." Jorelle said.

"Or I'd make his cock so hard that he could dig a tunnel through the Wall with it." Lyra said with a laugh. Jorelle blushed at her sister's humor.

"Try to be properly dressed when we go to Winterfell, Lyra. Lady Stark may not find your japes as funny as I do." Jorelle said as they rode off to Mormont Keep.

* * *

Brynden spent the day watching the activities undertaken by the Stark children.

He was impressed by Arya and Bran's archery. No doubt they have little Lyanna Mormont to thank for that. The bond between the youngest Mormont girl and Arya was endearing as was her proximity to Bran. While their unity seemed to make them better, Brynden could see how they could be impulsive.

Sansa proved to be a proper lady in her poise and stance. She was well learned and equally well spoken but Brynden saw that she would not be able to handle those who would try and deceive her. Sansa showed him her knowledge of history and customs within the realm and several of the many found across the Narrow Sea in the Free Cities of Essos. He might have to watch over her if she ever found herself south of the Neck.

Rickon was still a child and yet watched his older siblings attentively whenever he wasn't playing with his toys or with his direwolf, Shaggydog. He was young and impressionable. Brynden found himself hoping that Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Jon Snow would help to give him the right impression.

Most of all, Robb Stark was becoming a true Stark in battlefield tactics, strategy and combat. He and his bastard brother were almost inseparable and they made each other better. The one problems Brynden saw in Robb Stark and Jon Snow were their tempers and emotions.

It was not lost to Brynden how different Robb and Jon behaved when they were with Lady Dacey Mormont as opposed to Rodrick Cassel. Cassel commanded them to be grown men. Dacey Mormont inspired them to be grown men. Though it was not made clear as day, Dacey had more strength in her body than anyone could ever expect.

Brynden knew a truth of the Mormont women that no one else did. It was the reason he entrusted Maege Mormont with his life many times whenever they were on the battlefield.

* * *

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Ser Wendel of House Manderly asked as he sat across from Hoster Tully. The second son of Lord Wyman Manderly had ventured south with a small cavalcade of twenty soldiers and several wagons to deliver all kinds of exotic silks, herbs and scents that came from Essos to Riverrun. He even brought along his thirteen year old niece, Wylla. What he did not know was that Lord Hoster of House Tully had requested for Ser Wendel for a clandestine purpose. The delivery of merchandise from Essos to Riverrun by way of White Harbor was a pleasant bonus.

Instead of going the short way, which would involve being chiseled by House Frey, they went the long way around via the Kingsroad and the River Road.

Though Hoster welcomed them with a pleasant feast and his finest wine, there was a look in his eye that did not pair well with the painted smile. Only when the young knight and the old lord were alone did everything become clear.

"It's not what I want that matters anymore. It's what the Riverlands need in the days to come." Hoster somehow trusted the second son of Lord Wyman Manderly enough to hand him the scroll unsealed. Looking at the contents, Ser Wendel almost could not believe what he was reading.

"What are your wishes in regard to this amendment, Lord Tully?"

"Take it to Winterfell postehaste. It's contents must not be known until the proper time."

"It shall be done as you have instructed, Lord Hoster."

"May the Gods preserve you and speed you on your way, Ser Wendel of House Manderly."

* * *

A/n: I think it's fair to say that the plot has begun to thicken drastically. Don't you?


	10. The Mormont Sisters

Honor & Fealty chapter 10

A/n: If there are any specific terms and other details I need to know in order to improve my telling this story i.e. cavalcades or colums as opposed to motorcades, let me know. In regards to ages (two and ten vs. twelve), I was told by Marah Lane that both ways of telling age was used on the show and in the books. I hope I did not lose any readers in that regard. Anyway, enjoy the story.

* * *

Upon crossing the Bay of Ice onto the mainland by way of longboats, the Mormont sisters were welcomed by the Lords of Deepwood Motte, Galbart and Robett of House Glover.

Alysane chose to take her children, Sarea and Beron, along with them to Winterfell so they could be properly introduced to Lord Eddard Stark. While they were excited to see Winterfell and the Starks, Sarea and Beron kept on their best behavior and stayed close to their mother.

Lyra took Jorelle's words to heart and dressed properly for the occasion but made sure that Jon would get an eyeful of the cleavage she proudly displayed in spite of the cold climate. Their mother made them take Dacey's clothes and personal belongings to their eldest sister since she would be responsible in rearing their future leige lord. Along with that, they were ordered to pack for a one night's stay should they have to stay anywhere for the night.

While the Glovers prepared carts and horses for the Mormonts, Jorelle looked out into the distance at the Wolfswood. Lyra noticed this and leaned toward her younger sister. "I have Jon Snow to look forward to. Who do you have, Jory?"

"I read in Dacey's letters that the Starks have direwolves. If that is true, I pray that Lord Stark allows us to stay for the night. The sooner they are taught what we know, the better for all of us." Jorelle whispered.

"You still need to learn patience, Jory." Lyra said, causing Jorelle to laugh.

"You are one to talk about patience, Lyra. You are practically hoping at the first chance to drag Jon Snow kicking and screaming into your bed."

"Who says I'll have to drag him? As far as screaming goes, it will only be when he's howling my name." Lyra said with a grin on her face.

"Lyra, Jorelle, enough with your banters. We only have so much time and it is a long ride through the Wolfswood to Winterfell. Use that time to chatter among yourselves and be far enough that my children do not hear anything they shouldn't know before their prime." Alysane said firmly as she placed Sarea and Beron on their horse. Sarra and Beron were no strangers to riding horses but Sarea, being the older and more experienced, sat up front on the saddle with Beron behind her.

"Do the Starks really have direwolves, mother?" Sarea asked. She heard tales of direwolves but never saw a live one.

"If they do, we'll find out soon enough." Alysane said, kissing Sarra's hand gently. "Ride next to me at all times so I can keep a close eye on you both. I will not chase you across the North. Is that clear?"

"Yes, mother." Sarea and Beron chimed together.

"My ladies of House Mormont, there are clansmen from House Wull who wish to join the cavalcade escorting you to Winterfell." Robett Glover said.

"Very well, Lord Glover. We march straight away to Winterfell. The day is quickly falling away from us." Alysane said as she mounted her horse and led her children to the front of the cavalcade. Servants from Deepwood Motte helped load up the carts and fed the horses to prepare them for the long journey ahead.

Once everyone was prepared and ready, the long trek through the Wolfswood en route to the ancestral stronghold of House Stark began.

Lyra looked about the depths of the forest, breathing in the crisp air while keeping her eyes open for anything hiding in the shadows. Despite the many soldiers from House Glover and the clansmen of House Wull, Jorelle kept a close eye on her nephew and niece; one hand on the reigns of the horse and the other on her bow.

In a moment where things seemed to be too quiet, Sarea innocently asked Jorelle, "Why would Jon Snow howl aunt Lyra's name?"

Alysane practically halted the entire cavalcade with one hand and turned to see how her sister was going to answer that question.

Jorelle looked to her elder sister for a moment before turning her attention back to Sarea. Taking a moment to process what she was about to say, Jorelle gave her niece an answer.

"Jon Snow may not be one by name but many of us believe he's a Stark. The sigil of House Stark is the direwolf. Wolves howl at night, especially when the moon is full. So if he's a Stark in all but name and Starks are wolves, it would make sense that he would howl like a wolf."

"But why would he howl aunt Lyra's name, aunt Jorelle?" Sarea asked, insisting to hear something more suggestive.

"Jon is attracted to your aunt Lyra. They care for each other deeply. It's natural that he would think of her often." Jorelle said.

The pacified smile on Sarea's face calmed Alysane and the cavalcade continued on their trek.

When the light came upon them again, the Kingsroad stretched out before them and in the distance stood the solemn stronghold built by Bran the Builder, the first King of Winter and founder of House Stark.

Winterfell.

* * *

House Stark gathered together in time for the watchmen on the ramparts to spot the arriving cavalcade from Deepwood Motte. Soldiers from House Glover along with clansmen from House Wull, the most powerful of the mountain clans in the North, were providing protection for the representatives of House Mormont.

Ser Brynden Tully stood at Ned Stark's right with Dacey and Lyanna Mormont to his right along with Theon Greyjoy and Jon Snow.

Catelyn, Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon stood at Ned Stark's left.

The mailed fist of House Glover and the buckets of House Wull flew in the wind alongside the black bear of House Mormont as the cavalcade entered Winterfell. Several carts pulled by mares carried Dacey Mormont's clothes and other essentials as well as the personal effects for the other Mormonts.

Three riders clad in bear cloaks stood out from the crowd as they rode mares. A palfrey carried two young children.

The first rider was a young girl of twelve in brown leathers and light brown clothes. Her light brown hair was tied back by two braids at either side of the head while the rest of her hair was unbound across her left shoulder. At her back was a quivver full of arrows; a bow rested in her left hand. Her body was lean and fit; a result of daily training and exercise. Arya, Bran and Rickon recognized Jorelle Mormont immediately.

The second rider was a young woman of sixteen wearing black leathers and dark black clothes that matched her long, unbound black hair. Her face was comely and her eye were enough to catch and keep Jon's attention. A sharp spear was her weapon of choice as were the various throwing daggers that lined her torso and the longsword sheathed at her left. Lyra Mormont had grown very beautiful and formidable as she developed into a true Mormont woman. That was not lost on Jon by any measure.

The third rider was a woman of twenty, wearing boiled leathers and forest green clothes. Her long brown hair was braided in Northern style while most of it was allowed to flow freely across her back. Her battle axe was strapped across her back over her bear fur cloak. Alongside her was a young girl of seven with dark brown hair and a face that could light up the night sky. Seated in front of her was a boy of five with short brown hair. Sansa naturally presumed it was Alysane Mormont and her two children.

Sarea and Beron waved at Arya, Bran and Rickon, who smiled back at them.

Alysane, Lyra and Jorelle dismounted their horses first. Alysane then helped Sarea and Beron down from their horse.

Arya and Bran were both excited to see Maege Mormont's daughters in Winterfell. To Arya, the Mormont women were heroes; the role models she always wanted. For Bran, he was just captivated by the women of House Mormont. It helped that they were as kind as they were beautiful.

Dacey, Alysane, Lyra, Jorelle and Lyanna Mormont embraced each other in a big bear hug with Sarea and Beron in between them.

When they released themselves from each other's embrace, the Mormonts approached Ned Stark in a straight line, standing from eldest to youngest with Sarea and Beron at their mother's side, and bowed in unison before the Lord Paramount of Winterfell and Warden of the North.

"My ladies of House Mormont."

"Lord Stark." They chimed together.

"I am entrusting you with the lives of my children here in Winterfell and on Bear Island. Do you swear to safeguard them from all threats and dangers?"

Dacey, Alysane, Lyra, Jorelle and Lyanna all nodded. "We do so promise."

"We will too, my lord." Sarea spoke firmly, her eyes glanced down; she thought it would be disrespectful to look the Lord Paramount of Winterfell in the eye. Beron seemed to follow his sister's lead as he did the same.

Sarea and Beron held each other's hand as the Warden of the North approached her. "What is your name, child?" Ned asked.

"Sarea Mormont of Bear Island, daughter of Alysane Mormont, my lord. This is my brother, Beron Mormont of Bear Island."

"Look up to me, Sarea and Beron Mormont." Ned Stark ordered. Sarea looked up slowly and saw the noble Lord Eddard Stark looking at her with a look that bore authority with grace. "You are a Mormont. Do they ever cast their eyes down?"

"Only in reverence to your family and to you." Sarea humbly answered.

"Do you know your house words?"

Sarea nodded. "Here We Stand."

Ned Stark put a hand beneath Sarea and Beron's chins gently. "A simple bow will suffice."

"Yes, Lord Stark." Sarea and Beron said in unison as Ned patted the both of them on their heads.

"You have all traveled a long way. Winterfell's hospitality is extended to you and we invite you all to stay the night so you may return to Bear Island well rested." Ned Stark spoke in a kindly way that still reverberated in his 'lord voice'. Dacey looked to her younger sisters who nodded to her.

"On behalf of my sisters, niece and nephew, I gratefully accept." Dacey replied.

In spite of her first opinion of them, Catelyn had to admit that the Mormont women took their duties and responsibilities seriously. It did nothing though to take the sting out of the fact that the Mormont women had her children practically swooning over them as well as Ned's bastard.

When the Mormonts were allowed to greet the Stark children, Lyra made a beeline for Jon. Before Jon could even utter a greeting, he had Lyra's lips pressed passionately against his. When she broke away from her direct greeting, Lyra smiled at the bashful expression on Jon's face. "Welcome to Winterfell, Lady Lyra Mormont."

"You've grown into quite the solemn Stark if there ever was one, Jon Snow." Lyra said, her lips curling into a smile that made Jon harder than the soldier pine trees of Bear Island. Turning to Jon's left, Lyra looked over Theon and the smile faded. "Greyjoy."

"Mormont." Theon said gruffly as he easily remembered the beating Dacey gave him and the punch Lyanna threw at him.

To the surprise of Lyra, Jorelle and Alysane as well as Sarra and Beron, the six direwolves of House Stark emerged from the godswood and ran out to greet the Mormonts. Sarra and Beron were playing with Rickon and Shaggydog while Jorelle was being introduced to Nymeria and Summer by Arya and Bran. Lyra kissed Ghost on the top of his head, making the albino direwolf pant happily as if displaying what Jon kept bottled up inside. Alysane was introduced to Lady by Sansa. Dacey already knew Grey Wind, thus she stood by him and Robb as the alphas of their respective packs.

* * *

The Glover soldiers and the Wull clansmen made quick work in getting the Mormonts settled in at Winterfell before returning to Deepwood Motte and the mountains.

Brynden watched from a distance as the Mormonts interacted with the Stark children.

Rickon, Beron, Sarea, Bran, Arya and Lyanna were the true children as none of them were above the age of ten, which made Jorelle the closest thing to an adult in their company at the age of twelve. Jorelle showed off her archery skills and told them tales of her first fight with a Wildling. Shaggydog, Summer and Nymeria were constantly at the sides of their masters as if they were second shadows.

Though he did not see them, Brynden was sure that Jon was held captive in the arms of an amorous Lyra Mormont somewhere in Winterfell. Gods save the poor boy from his own humility and bashfulness.

Alysane took Sansa on a walk into the godswood at one point after Dacey and Robb with Grey Wind at his side took over watching over the children. What was spoken between them, only the Gods knew for certain.

In the dark of night, when everyone else was asleep, Brynden heard the sounds of footsteps down the hall. As light on their feet as the Mormonts thought they were, Brynden was a light sleeper and had long trained his senses to pick up on even the slightest hiccup escaping the mouth of a flea on the ear of a dog a league away.

Brynden looked out his window in time to see five figures that he could only have guessed was the five Mormont sisters clad in their bear fur cloaks walking into the godswood.

A knock on the door surprised him. With steady breaths and a calm pace, Brynden opened the door of his room.

Sarea and Beron were standing there in front of him with furs in their arms. "What do you two want?"

"We have not slept anywhere that was not on Bear Island." Beron replied.

"Our mother and aunts are in the godswood. They might be there for a while. Can we stay with you for the night, Ser Brynden?" Sarea asked.

Brynden sighed to himself as he saw the big eyes of Sarea and Beron looking up at him.

"Pick a spot nearby the hearth but not too close. Your mother and aunts would cast me into the Bay of Ice with boulders on my boot heels if anything happened to you two."

"Thank you, Ser Brynden." Sarea said as she reached up on her tip toes, threw her arms around his neck and kissed his scruffy cheek.

"Go on to bed, the two o' ya." Brynden said with a laugh. "You don't want to see an old man blush."

In the morning, Brynden woke up to find Dacey, Alysane, Lyra, Jorelle and Lyanna Mormont standing around his bed, looking right at him.

"Mother told us about you, Ser Brynden." Dacey spoke first. "She was a girl of ten when she first met you. Is that right?"

"Yes. That's true. I came to the North with Ser Barristan the Bold after the war fought in the Free Cities and the Stepstones."

"Do you know what we are capable of?" Lyra asked.

"I do not know about the five of you but I do know your mother...she has certain talents."

"Singing is a talent. Dancing is a talent. What we possess requires a better description." Jorelle said.

"You can not tell anyone what you suspect of us. If the wrong people know, our lives would be in danger as well as those we care for." Lyanna said firmly.

"I am not one to gossip even to myself. Whatever secret you have to bear is safe with me. I will take it with me to the grave."

"Thank you, Ser Brynden." They said in unison.

Before they reached the door, Brynden asked, "Were you girls out in the godswood late last night?"

The five Mormont girls looked at him for a moment and nodded.

"It's a bit late for saying prayers, isn't it?"

The smiles on their faces appeared serene and suspicious at the same time if such a thing was possible.. "There are things that Southrons choose to erase from history. As for us Northerners, who have the blood of the First Men in our veins, we remember them well." Jorelle answered cryptically.

Dacey, Alysane, Lyra, Jorelle and Lyanna took a sniff of the air. "It's time for breakfast. We ought to enjoy this time together. It might be a while before we're all together again." Alysane said before she and her sisters left a puzzled and perplexed Ser Brynden wondering what was going to happen between the Mormonts and the Starks.

* * *

A/n: How is the suspense build up? Too obvious? Too cryptic? Or moving at a steady pace?


	11. Archery on the courtyard

Honor & Fealty chapter 11

* * *

Jorelle Mormont first wrapped her hands around a bow and arrow at the age of four. In the span of eight years, the archer's bow became an extension of her arm. Though Dacey, Alysane, Lyra and Lyanna were all capable with archery, Jorelle was the most proficient.

Like Arya, she never gave any interest in being a docile wife to some lord. However, in spite of how she felt about marriage, there were sons of fishermen, smiths and crofters casting glances at her.

Standing on the training grounds with Arya and Bran Stark, Jorelle Mormont helped them practice their archery. For the most part, she expected them to be rather green when it came to accuracy but they were a long way from being put on the line.

Arya and Bran hit the bullseye on their third shot.

"I guess you both owe a lifelong debt of gratitude to Lyanna." Jorelle said as she cast a glance at Lyanna watching over her nephew, Beron, and the youngest of the Stark children, Rickon, as they were playing with Shaggydog. "You are good but if you are in battle, it's not about how many arrows you can cast." Jorelle explained before nocking an arrow on her bow, drawing back and loosing it.

In the moment it took to blink their eyes, Jorelle's arrows struck the bullseye of both Bran and Arya's targets, splitting their arrows straight down the middle.

"It's all about the one that kills the enemy before he could even get the chance to attack. If you can not land the shot on the first try, you are dead."

"You are lucky that your mother allows you to train. My mother would sooner punish me than let me train with Robb and Jon."

Being older than Arya by three years did not make Jorelle any smarter than the rambunctious she wolf but the impulsiveness worried the young she bear. "Luck had nothing to do with it, Arya. Bear Island is not a fortified stronghold like Winterfell. There are no walls around us to repel attacks. My mother trained us not because we begged her to. It was all out of necessity, duty and survival." Jorelle said as she assisted Bran in perfecting his posture and grip on the bow. "Stand tall. Control your breathing. Steady your heart. Take a deep breath. Hold it. Release it through your nose. Take another breath. Fire."

Bran loosed his arrow and, to his astonishment, struck the bullseye. He repeated it again and again, the advice of Jorelle weighing on his mind as one by one, he began emptying the arrows from the quiver on his back until all of them were shot right into the bullseye.

Jorelle smiled and kissed Bran on the head before she leaned in and whispered, "You will become better than any of us can imagine, Bran."

The sound of clapping was enough to catch their attention as well as Beron, Lyanna and Rickon.

"I once saw her put an arrow through a man at 50 yards just for knocking over her beer in a tavern."

"Was that during or after the Rebellion, Ser?" Jorelle asked.

"It was after the Battle of the Trident. When the fighting had died down, your mother and I went to a tavern for a drink. It was a rather stubborn Riverlander who knocked her beer over. I never figured which house he was from. I know one thing though. He was no Frey since he actually reached down, found a set of balls and fought the rebellion on our side."

Brynden whistled in appreciation as he looked at the archery targets. "Jorelle Mormont, is it?"

Jorelle nodded. "If I were to go by your apparel, I would venture a guess. You are the Blackfish. Am I right?"

The older man nodded. "Your skill is impressive. If my nephew had a tenth of your ability, I would have thought him a capable fighter. Or at the least, a decent archer."

"Isn't he, uncle Brynden?" Bran asked.

"Bran, I love Edmure but he is more interested in seeking glory for himself than in the service and duty of which is required of him as heir to Riverrun." Brynden said grimly. The words of Howland Reed and his son, Jojen, echoed in his mind in the day and night.

Bran frowned. "What is wrong with glory and fame?"

"When that becomes the only things you seek, it becomes a problem." Brynden explained. "You may be the second son of Lord Stark but I have a feeling you will be called upon to undertake a great position, which will bring great responsibilities."

Jorelle listened to what Brynden Tully was telling Bran and Arya while noticing out of the corner of her eye Lyanna telling Rickon something in his ear while the youngest Stark child was holding on to Shaggydog.

"Isn't Uncle Edmure supposed to inherit the ancestral seat of House Tully?" Arya asked.

The incredulous expression on Brynden's face spoke volumes before he voiced his thoughts. "Arya, your grandfather, my brother, had him schooled and trained for years. In martial ability, he is somewhat capable. However, it takes much more than just knowing what is expected and required."

"Then who will govern the Riverlands if not House Tully?" Bran asked.

"There were constant battles fought for governance of the Riverlands long before House Tully received the ranks of Lords Paramount. If House Tully falls and no one steps up to keep the peace, the other houses will fight each other like rabid dogs. If that does not happen, the Ironborn might get the idea to reclaim the inglorious days of Harren the Black."

"Are you not a Tully?" Jorelle asked.

"If you were to ask my brother, he would say no. Nevertheless, I remain a blood relative and standing member of House Tully." Brynden said.

"If the colors of red and blue are still on your standard; if the words of House Tully are yours to recite and if your family name is Tully, would that suggest that your nephew is not the only heir to Riverrun?" Jorelle asked.

"I am not meant to sit my old arse on a chair so it could be kissed by ever Riverlord between Ironman's Bay and the Bite. Apart from that, my brother, who remains stubborn as a herd of mules to this day, shunned me. If he were inclined to take me back and name me his successor, the silver trout would be replaced with the blackfish."

Jorelle looked at him with an unwavering expression. "Silver trout or blackfish. It means nothing to a bear as it would devour both without discrimination."

"Watch your tongue, bear cub. This blackfish will break your teeth if you try to take a bite out of me."

Jorelle smiled at Brynden. "Now you're talking like a Northerner."

"Your mother taught me. I just never had the chance to put it into practice for a long while."

"Uncle."

Brynden looked up to see Catelyn watching from up above. "Excuse me, children." Getting up to his feet, he looked to Jorelle with a grin. "I must attend to personal matters."

"What might they be, Blackfish?" Jorelle challenged.

"Family, Duty, Honor. Those sorts of matters." Brynden said, reciting the words of House Tully with pride. "You have bravery and audacity, Jorelle, but you are stubborn. That applies to you too, Arya."

Brynden walked away from the training grounds, leaving Jorelle thinking about what he said until Arya tugged at Jorelle's arm. "You are a Mormont of Bear Island. I'm a Stark of Winterfell. That will never change."

"Thank the Gods for that." Jorelle said with a smile before she put two fingers in her mouth and whistled for Summer and Nymeria to come running over to her.

"Arya, Bran, there is something you both need to do. Listen carefully to me and do not speak of this to anyone."

Throughout the conversation and well past it, Arya and Bran kept their direwolves closer than their own shadows.

* * *

A/n: I am surprised that I was able to write this chapter overnight. One day is not long enough to really have both the Mormonts and the Starks together but I think I can work it out where each Mormont sister will have some direct influence with the Stark children. By the way, on a side note, there is this idea of Theon Greyjoy talking with Brynden Tully about his grandfather. I will have to see how this story unfolds before I either scrap the idea or include it.


	12. Pleasure in the Bell Tower

Honor & Fealty chapter 12

A/n: This chapter brings up one of the top three pairings of this show. I wanted to write it in a way in which they could be in contact with each other in a way that is not gratuitous or some excuse for sex. It is important that their actions and words all mean something to each other and to the story. If things play out right and there is something between them that I can work with in this story, there may be a chapter centered on Bran Stark and Lyanna Mormont. For now, only time will tell.

* * *

In the Bell Tower of Winterfell, Jon Snow and Lyra Mormont were resting after a strenuous sparring match. To Jon's amazement, the same woman who beat him senseless with her spear and cut him numerous times without a hesitation or flinch was learned enough to mend his wounds with care and attention to his well being.

Ghost watched Lyra disrobe Jon from the waist up, using ointment on the bruises and lacerations to prevent infections before applying the bandages. "I thought I was going easy on you." Jon hissed as the ointment stung his nerves.

"That was your problem. The enemy will never go easy on you. That's why you are being bandaged." Lyra said, kissing Jon's chest as if that would magically make the pain go away.

"Are we enemies?" Jon asked. Lyra smacked him on the shoulder. "No. You are too cute for me to kill." Lyra japed as she continued dressing Jon's wounds.

"Who taught you? Was it your mother or the maester of Bear Island?"

"My brother by law, Jeron, studied for a time to become a maester after Beron was born. Jeron wanted to do something that would put his hands to better use than rigging a fishing boat or hauling fish caught in the nets onto a boat. His specialty was mending wounds and treating injuries. He taught me what he knew. Jeron passed before he could travel to Oldtown." Lyra said upon finishing her work.

"What happened to him?" Jon asked.

"He was fishing with his father and several other fishermen out on the Sunset Sea. On their way back, they were ambushed by a horde of Wildlings. Everyone on the boat was slain." Lyra said as Jon took her into his arms, pushing himself past the physical pain. "He was a good man. Alysane loved him. I wish he could have lived a bit longer to see Sarea and Beron grow up."

The pain of life without a parent was one Jon knew only too well; the only difference was that Sarea and Beron knew who their father was. Jon had no idea who his mother was or why no one ever spoke of her.

Lyra still mourned for Jeron. Tears were shed several times for him even when the memories were good. Ghost padded over to Lyra and licked her face tenderly.

"I think Ghost takes after you distinctly, Jon. He cares for me as much as you do." Lyra said as she ran her fingers through Ghost's pale white fur. In her mind, the sooner Jon knew about it, the better for everyone. "Jon, there are some things you should know. You can't boast about one but you can fantasize about the other."

"What is it, Lyra?" Jon asked as Lyra turned around and straddled his lap, keeping him in place with her legs wrapped around his torso but it was the strength she bore that he did not see coming.

"The first thing you ought to know should be very obvious by now." Lyra said as she leaned in and kissed him, rolling her hips against his as she laid her hands on his shoulders.

Jon was still, unsure of what to do without running the risk of being too forward or being dishonorable. Lyra, having sensed his hesitation, took his hands and led them to her torso, giving him permission to touch her body. "Your hands feel just like I thought they would." Lyra said gently into Jon's mouth as he tenderly fondled her body.

"You feel so warm against me, Lady Lyra." Jon said.

"That's no surprise to me. You have stoked my fire for years." Lyra said as she shed her dress to reveal her naked torso. Seeing his astonishment, Lyra laid a hand on his lips to prevent him from spoiling the moment. "I'm not about to have you take my maidenhead. Not yet anyway. For now, I want to see what you can do to please me just from seeing me like this."

Rising up to her feet, Lyra stood before Jon Snow in all her splendor. Jon was speechless as he took in the sight before him.

"I won't ask what your mind and heart are thinking. Instead, I want you to show me exactly what your loins and tongue are telling you to do right now."

Lyra did not have a chance to react as Jon instantly knelt before her, his head between her legs and his hands on her hips. The sensations coursing through her body were greater than those she gave onto herself whenever she fantasized about Jon in the light of day and in the dark of night. To steady herself from falling, Lyra clutched Jon's head in her hands, running her fingers through his black hair as he made her climax over and over.

True to Jorelle's prediction in the Wolfswood, Lyra Mormont was howling Jon Snow's name in the orgasmic oblivion of ecstasy.

Ghost was quiet the whole time but turned his head away so as to give them their privacy.

Lyra was taken by surprise when she felt Jon's mouth on her breasts but not as surprised as when he took her up in his arms. Her fingers ran through his black hair as he fondled and groped her. When they were done and he wrapped her in her bear cloak, Jon laid down with Lyra on the floor and held her close.

"Have there been other maidens who have come calling on you that I don't know about, Jon Snow?" Lyra teased. Jon chuckled into Lyra's hair and kissed her gently on the head as his hands fondled her teats even through the thick bear cloak.

"There was no other, Lyra. Only you." The smile on her face brought one to Jon's.

"If I were to find out that you have gone whoring with Theon Greyjoy at the brothels, that last sparring contest will be a tickle compared to the thrashing I'll put on you."

"I never went to the brothels with Theon though he has tried goading me into coming with him. He'd often say that I had the freedom to do so since no one would ever think of wedding their daughters to a lord's bastard." Jon said grimly. Lyra's demeanor changed instantly to that of a foul tempered, bloodthirsty grizzly bear.

"If I ever hear that Ironborn whoremonger say such things about you, I will skewer his best parts with my spear."

To Jon's surprise, instead of being frightened at Lyra's possessive and protective nature, he got harder than an oak tree.

Lyra noticed it right away and smiled at Jon. "Not yet but soon enough." Lyra said, kissing him on the lips before getting dressed.

"What was the other thing you wanted to tell me?" Jon asked.

That question made her expression turn stoic. "What I am going to tell you, you must keep it to yourself. If the wrong people hear of it, they will kill you and Ghost. I can not let that happen. You are too handsome to be slain in your prime and I'm rather fond of your wolf."

While Jon listened to what Lyra told him, Ghost padded over to Jon and sat on his haunches next to his master.

* * *

A/n: Brian De Palma will agree with me when I say this: the line between sexy and sleazy is thinner than a strand of hair. Instead of doing something too explicit, I tried to create it in a way that would be tasteful without giving too much away. I also found Jon and Lyra to have contrasting styles that complement each other.


	13. Claws & Flaws

Honor & Fealty chapter 13

A/n: This chapter is one I have looked forward to since it would give Sansa a woman figure to look up to and emulate apart from her mother, Catelyn Stark. I also thought it would be a good opportunity to give Alysane more depth in her backstory. I never thought to make the Mormont women perfect. They are far from that. The only primary objective is to make the Starks a bit smarter and stronger so that they will not end up the way they did. If you don't agree with my agenda, that's your own thing to deal with. If they seem perfect, this chapter might go a long way to change that. As strong and well intent as they are, even the Mormonts have their flaws.

* * *

While Sarea played with Lady, Alysane sat with Sansa at the base of the weirwood tree in the godswood.

"Lady Alysane, if it's not too forward, how did your children come to be named as Mormonts? Would you have had to take the name of your husband?" Sansa asked.

"You need not worry about being too forward, Sansa." Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Alysane answered Sansa's question. "If the man is of a lesser house or name, a Mormont woman gets the privilege of bestowing the name of her house onto her children. Jeron was the son of an ordinary fisherman. He didn't come from a great house. Jeron was of the smallfolk and I still loved him."

"Did he have to prove himself to you?" Sansa asked.

"He was a kind and good man but his hands were more accustomed to the fish nets and the rod as opposed to the sword and shield. He was a quicker study than most though. When I brought him to my mother, she asked me the same thing you did. If I told her the truth, she would have killed Jeron."

"Why would she kill him?"

"Dacey, Lyra, Jorelle and Lyanna were raised the same way I was. Somehow, I am the only one of my sisters who bested someone in battle and chose to wed him instead of cutting him down."

"You loved him. There could not be anything wrong with that." Sansa said.

"Sansa, you are in the flair of your youth. I was once like that years ago. Love is a splendor in and of itself; more precious than gold and rare as Valyrian steel. He was loving and caring but his face was spotless."

"Spotless?" Sansa asked.

"He smelt of salt water, sweat and fish. My sisters and I smelt of blood; blood spilled from what we hunted to the blood of our enemies. My mother gave me grief about how I was foolishly led to Jeron by my heart when I wed him and took him into my bed. She loves her grandchildren dearly but that does not stop her from reminding me how love makes fools of us all. When he was killed, I mourned for Jeron but my mother continued to remind me what a fool I was to marry for love."

"Have your sisters ever tried to do what you did? Marry someone for love?"

"Dacey has her dedication, whether it is to the North, her fellow Northmen, her family. She was the first born and the first my mother trained. She has always been dedicated to her training and becoming a great bannerwoman for House Stark. Her aggressive nature and approach scared off many would-be suitors. Her prejudices against the South did not help much. Lyra is an impulsive girl who takes her pleasures in besting the sons of fishermen, crofters and loggers. The fight always seemed to lean in her favor when those boys never held a weapon in their lives. Jorelle and Lyanna are both still children. They seem to share the same attitude Arya has about love or at least the love I had with Jeron."

"Will finding love hurt me as it hurt you?"

"Sansa, it broke my heart to bury Jeron. All the same, I would not give back a moment I had with him. He gave me a daughter and a son; he gave me something to live for. I miss him terribly but he was my love for the time we had. I may be a widow but I was happy and you will be happy too. Maybe more so than I ever was."

With a glance to Lady, Alysane chose to bring up the most pressing matter. "Sansa, call your wolf over to you. There's something you must know."

Once Lady was at Sansa's side, Alysane told her exactly what was to come. Before Sansa could ask what madness had touched Alysane, Lady's head suddenly shot up. The scent of sweat and blood filled both her nose and Sansa's, surprising her since it was coming from afar..

In the blink of an eye, Lady took off to the courtyard. Alysane, Sarea and Sansa followed the direwolf to the courtyards.

* * *

Lyra thought no one was watching her spar with Jon Snow. She was wrong.

Ser Brynden Tully watched it all silently. He saw everything, including Lyra's arrogance which degraded Jon's ego and practically stroked her own ego. Even as she took Jon into the bell tower to mend his body, there was no modesty or humility to be found upon her visage.

When she emerged from the Bell Tower with her favored spear in hand, Lyra was met by Brynden Tully, who gave her an earful. "I knew your mother many years ago. She was a child of ten when I and Barristan Selmy were young knights in our prime. Your mother and uncle would never have approved of your behavior then or now, especially when you get your pleasures from beating boys who never wrapped their hands around a sword a day in their lives."

"You do not know me or what I find pleasing. I can say that I don't need to be criticized by a Southern for my behavior or what I do in my own time."

"I'm only curious if you count Jon Snow among those boys you put on their knees."

It started with one lunge with the spear. She thought it would be an easy win but Brynden caught the spear, disarmed her and smacked her across the back with her own weapon. "Give that back, old man." Lyra ordered only to have Brynden spin the spear between his hands. "If you want it back, all you have to do is take it from me."

Brynden walked over to the training grounds and the fight began with the members of House Stark watching. Jon had arrived halfway into the fight only to be held back by Dacey and Robb.

Every time Lyra thought she was close enough to grab the spear, Brynden pulled it far from her reach and knocked her straight down to the ground. The first few times, it was on her back. The other times, she fell face first to the dirt.

Arya, Bran and Rickon were more than mortified that a Mormont was being bested in a battle by their great uncle Brynden, who did not seem to even break a sweat over it. "I'm rather bored by your piss poor attempts, bear cub. I could drink a mug of ale and throw you a beating without fear of spilling a drop. Either improve your approach or admit defeat."

Lyra could not fathom how she was being beaten in a fight against a Southron within the stronghold of Winterfell in the presence of House Stark. It did not lessen the severity of the situation that Lord and Lady Stark were watching this as well from up above.

Theon was perhaps the only person enjoying the spectacle unfolding before him. It felt like poetic justice that a Mormont got dealt the same schooling he got.

Lyra's rapid breathing and growls was a blatant sign of frustration and irritation. Her temper caused every movement she made hasty and reckless.

In contrast, Ser Brynden's breathing was steady and controlled. Every move he made was precise and methodical. Upon flooring Lyra one last time, Brynden stuck the spear into the ground before picking Lyra up off the ground by the hair with one hand and twisting her arm behind her back with the other.

Lyra started yelling at Brynden until the old knight released her hair only to smacked her on the head while holding her at his mercy.

Alysane sent a signal to Jorelle and Lyanna, which they caught instantly. Faster than a heartbeat, the two youngest Mormonts herded Sarea, Beron, Arya, Bran and Rickon together and got them to the Great Hall before the banter between Brynden and Lyra became more explicit.

"How many boys on Bear Island did you put on their knees after you bested them in battle?"

When she didn't answer, Brynden twisted his hand once and she yelped, "Twenty! Twenty, you shriveled up Southron shit!"

"Such a mouth like that will only get you into more trouble." Brynden said before twisting her arms so painfully that he goaded Lyra into saying two words she never thought she could or would ever say in a duel or a fight.

"I YIELD!"

Releasing Lyra from his grip, Brynden walked over to Dacey Mormont, Robb Stark and Jon Snow while Lyra ran away to the Guest House. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Lady Dacey."

"Don't be. That beating was long overdue." Dacey replied.

"Very well then." Brynden said as he walked towards Lord and Lady Stark.

"Robb, I am so sorry that this happened. Are my sisters and I about to be expelled from Winterfell?" Dacey asked.

"We are about to find out." Robb said as he saw his father talk with Brynden for a moment before walking over to them. Dacey was about to plead for clemency on behalf of her sisters and profess that it was never her intent to bring strife into Winterfell.

With a raised hand, Lord Stark silenced Dacey before she could utter one word. "You are not at fault, Lady Dacey, and I have no reason to punish you and your sisters. Ser Brynden told me everything."

Lord Stark looked her over before waving over Alysane. "Lady Alysane, if it does not put you out of the way, I invite your daughter and son to dine with Arya, Bran and Rickon for supper tonight in the Great Hall. I imagine you and your sisters will need to sort out your issues."

"Thank you, Lord Stark. My children will be honored to join you and your family in the Great Hall for supper. I'll see to it that they behave better than their Aunt Lyra." Alysane said humbly.

* * *

When the time came for supper, the Starks and the Blackfish were joined by Sarea and Beron Mormont. Though they had watched the fight between the old Southron knight and their aunt Lyra, neither of them chose to bring up such a rough topic for discussion.

Instead, Sarea asked Arya about life in Winterfell, which then led to them trading ideas of pranks to pull on Septa Mordane.

Bran and Rickon was fast friends with Beron, who told them of once going with his sister and aunt Dacey to the Gift. It was the closest he ever got to see the Wall even from such a distance.

Sansa looked to Robb and whispered to him something that caught his attention immediately.

"Are you certain that is what she told you?"

Sansa nodded. "Has Dacey talked to you about it?"

"No."

"Is something the matter? You're whispering as if you were part of the King's Small Council." Brynden asked. The clandestine conversations were not missed by Ned and Catelyn, who also were wondering what was going on with their children.

"Robb? Sansa? Is something wrong?" Catelyn asked as her suspicions began to rise.

Robb and Sansa shook their heads. "Nothing's wrong. If there is, we will tell you right away." Sansa said on behalf of herself and Robb.

* * *

The Mormonts were an honorable and loyal bunch but even they had flaws.

Dacey was a die hard devotee to the North and it's culture just as she was devoted to her family and her countrymen. On the other hand, history and the past have only served to make Dacey prejudiced and guarded against the South to where she could not be civil in the presence of one. Her sisters would argue that the purest, undiluted blood of the First Men coursed in her veins.

Alysane was strong minded and her resolve was equally hardened but her emotions were not as controlled as her mother and uncle Jeor. Concealing her emotions was not among her skill sets. Alysane never had the prejudice of the South Dacey had yet she was uneasy to trust Southrons.

Jorelle was very much like Arya in her desire for adventure and action rather than settling down and raising a family. While it kept her focused, disciplined and set on improving her abilities as a warrior, it prevented her from really building relationships with boys.

Lyanna was much different than her elder sisters. Perhaps it was her innocence or that she did not bear the prejudices of Dacey, the suspicions of Alysane, the arrogance of Lyra or the stubbornness of Jorelle but her flaws had yet to be found.

Lyra's attitude and arrogance ranked at the top of her flaws. Her biggest flaw was her lust. Twenty boys were bested by her and forced to sate her sexually between her thirteenth and sixteenth namedays. She reveled in being better than them and bending those boys to her whims.

For a long time, Lyra had seemed to be inadvertently taunting the fates in her antics.

At long last, Lyra was taken down a step or two at the hands of Ser Brynden Tully.

When they retired to the Guest House, Lyra was grilled by her sisters on why it happened. Lyra told them what she did with Jon Snow.

Dacey and Alysane took turns chewing out Lyra for different reasons.

Dacey scolded Lyra for drawing blood out of a Stark on the hallowed grounds of Winterfell. In her eyes, it was as terrible as if a Stark were to be slain on the Wall. It was bordering on a mortal sin.

Alysane scolded Lyra for putting Jon Snow in the same company as all those boys she stepped over. Jon was a kind boy and Lyra took advantage of that.

As if the Old Gods were listening in on this and chose to display their sense of humor, someone knocked on the door. Lyanna answered it, expecting to see servants of Winterfell bringing them their supper.

To her surprise and that of her sisters, Jon Snow and Theon Greyjoy stood there with Ghost. Lyra could not lift her eyes to Jon out of shame. He deserved better than what she did to him.

Their arms were laden with plates while other servants of Winterfell brought the rest.

"We thought to come by and see how you all were." Jon spoke politely.

"That is very thoughtful of you, Jon." Lyanna said as she opened the door to let them in.

Jorelle was sharpening her favorite short sword on a whetstone with a hardened look on her face as she watched Theon, Jon and the servants prepare the table before filling it with food and drink.

Dacey and Alysane approached Jon and hugged him gently. Leaning in, they spoke to him. "Put Ghost at the front of your door tonight and leave it unlocked." Dacey instructed. "Don't argue with us or ask any questions. We need you to help us discipline Lyra." Alysane instructed Jon.

Jon nodded silently.

Alysane turned her attention to Theon and gave him a once over glance. "Why are you serving our food tonight, Greyjoy?"

"Jon needed the extra hands and I wanted to see just how badly your sister got beaten."

"You saw the fight firsthand. You saw enough." Alysane said firmly. "You may be the first Greyjoy I have ever met who ever brought food to us but do not think that gives you leave to make light of my sister being humbled."

"You speak truly though harshly, Lady Mormont." Theon said briefly.

After Theon and Jon left, the five Mormont sisters sat together and ate their food in relative silence until Alysane asked a pertinent question.

"Did you talk to Robb yet?"

"I have not yet." Dacey said.

"Why not?" Jorelle asked.

Dacey did not answer out of the risk of making an excuse. Alysane, being the second to oldest of them, saw right through it all and smiled.

"How long has it been since Robb Stark stole your heart, sister?"

"I don't know." Dacey replied sullenly. "I don't even think he stole it."

Alysane held Dacey's hand. "Did you ask to train him yourself because of duty? Or is it more than that?"

"He loves you too, Dacey." Lyanna said. "I have prayed many times and I was shown what you tried to hide."

"You are in love with Robb Stark?" Jorelle asked. She never imagined her big sister Dacey to be smitten by any man, much less one who was on the cusp of manhood as Robb Stark was.

Dacey's silence said it all. She was in love with Robb Stark of Winterfell.

* * *

A/n: In the next chapter, Lyra gets disciplined, Robb learns what is being told to his siblings and the last time the Mormonts would be together for a long while. I'm not versed in relationships or the progression of affection between people so I'm kind of winging it between Robb and Dacey as well as Jon and Lyra.


	14. Nighttime Activities

Honor & Fealty chapter 14

* * *

 **298AC - Winterfell**

As per Dacey and Alysane's instructions, Jon Snow had Ghost outside his room in front of the unlocked door.

No one argued the albino direwolf standing outside without restraint. On the other hand, most of the household were asleep in their chambers and the direwolf did nothing to threaten or harm anyone.

It helped that he was silent as his namesake suggested.

The footsteps were quiet and yet Ghost turned his head in their direction, casting his bright red gaze upon Dacey and Alysane Mormont as they marched Lyra in front of them towards Jon's chambers.

Alysane was married to Jeron for years. While he was alive and she was his wife, Alysane learned how to please Jeron and vice versa. That made Alysane ideal for teaching Lyra what she would have to do in order to make amends with Jon Snow.

Ghost looked up at Lyra with a hard look as if he were silently scolding her for what she did to his master. Kneeling down for what would not be the last time, Lyra spoke to Ghost. "I'm sorry, Ghost. I never meant to do that to Jon. Can you forgive me?"

Ghost gave Lyra a lick on the cheek before padding his paw against the door twice.

The door opened and there stood Jon Snow dressed in a loose white shirt and dark pants.

"Lyra." Jon said as he looked her over. She was wearing her bear cloak, which concealed her from the neck down.

"May I come in?" Lyra asked timidly. The usual gusto in her voice was not there.

"Of course." Jon opened the door wider and allowed her to enter his room. Alysane pulled Jon close and said, "Lyra knows what is required from her. She does not leave your room until she does it. Do not argue with me or with her. Understand?"

Though he had no idea what was being hinted at, Jon nodded just from the intense way Alysane spoke to him. The strength in her grip was both alarming and surprising. Alysane gave a hard look at both Jon and Lyra before she closed the door, leaving the two of them all alone together.

* * *

While Alysane and Ghost waited outside Jon's room, Dacey walked to Robb's room. She was met by Grey Wind, who stood in front of the door like an ever faithful guard.

"I have to speak with Robb." Dacey said to Grey Wind.

Grey Wind turned his head towards the door and growled. The door opened a moment later and out emerged Robb Stark. He was also dressed in a loose shirt and pants. "Lady Dacey. It's rather late for a talk."

"Not for the one we are about to have, Robb. May I enter?" Dacey asked.

"Of course." Robb said as he stood back to let Dacey in. "Bring Grey Wind in. This involves him as well."

Robb waved in Grey Wind, who padded into his room and sat between them.

"My sisters have spoken with Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon and Jon. Did they tell you what was discussed?" Dacey asked as she shed her cloak, catching Robb by surprise. He had seen her in a dress before but now that she wore garments that were better fitted on her body, Robb's attention was focused completely on Dacey Mormont, especially as the clothes made clear to him that she was a woman fully grown.

"Sansa mentioned what was talked about between her and Alysane in the godswood." Robb said while trying not to stare at Dacey's body for too long. "I could see her telling such tales to Arya, Bran, Rickon, Sarea and Beron but does she actually believe such tall tales?"

"Time and selective memory, the cornerstones of the Andals in the South, holds the blame in turning history into fables and tall tales." Dacey retorted. Though she was not as brutal in her prejudices, Dacey was not wrong about the Andals rewriting histories with their ideals.

* * *

Jon and Lyra stood apart from each other in silence. It was some time before she spoke up.

"I feel bad about what I did today. I took advantage of you. I never meant to do that to you, Jon."

"If you are speaking of the sparring bout between us, it is not the first time I wound up on the losing end. There have been many times when Robb had sent me to Maester Luwin bruised and bloodied after a sparring match."

"It's more than that." Lyra said as she told him about the twenty boys she humiliated and made subservient to sate her own desires. The further she went on, the more difficult it was for her to look him in the eye.. "You must think I'm a selfish cunt."

"Am I counted among those boys on Bear Island?"

"Not by a league." Lyra said resolutely. "I have harbored an affection for you that I never had for anyone else. Can you forgive me for being a cold blooded bitch?"

Jon took Lyra into his embrace, her arms wrapped tight across his back as she held onto him. "If it gives you peace of mind, I forgive you."

With her face buried in his shoulder, Lyra also had her body pressed against Jon. It was not tough to tell that he was getting hard. "Alysane told me you had to do something."

"Yes, I do, and it involves you." Lyra said as she shed the bear cloak, revealing her naked body to him before taking Jon's pants off. Sensing his arousal and embarrassment, Lyra smiled up at him. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, Jon. It is clear to me that you are no 'boy' by any measure." Lyra said, blushing slightly at how big Jon's cock grew from his attraction to her.

In a reversal of roles, Jon had Lyra on her knees before him, his hands in her hair as she took his large member into her mouth slowly.

* * *

 **284 AC - Castle Black - The Wall**

For a seven year old girl, it was a risk going up to the top of the Wall. In Dacey's arms, wrapped in warm furs, was little Jon Snow. She had not taken one step up onto the lift when she was quickly joined by her uncle, Lord Commander Jeor Mormont. One of the more respectful Black Brothers spotted her going towards the lift and called for the Lord Commander immediately.

"If you wish to go up to the top, you must tell me first. I will not have my hair grow white before its time out of worry for you, Dacey." Jeor said firmly.

"Forgive me, uncle. I just wanted to look at what is beyond the Wall." Dacey said as she held Jon close to her. This was not lost on Jeor, who smirked beneath his beard.

"The boy looks at peace in your arms. Have you ever wondered how he came to be?"

"I never wondered about it." Dacey replied. It did not matter to her what Jon's origins were. To her, he was an adorable, sweet boy who inspired her to be caring and protective. For Jeor, he was thankful that his upbringing kept his face from betraying what he felt when he looked at Jon Snow.

"One day, you will learn a hard lesson. You can either know true happiness with your heart or the truth in your mind. No one can have both."

Dacey frowned at the rough advice given to her by her uncle. "Is that how you survived out here on the Wall, uncle? Did your heart turn into a block of ice because the truth was more important than happiness?"

"On the Wall, emotion is the enemies of action and judgment." Jeor answered as the lift stopped at the top of the Wall. "Make no mistake about it, Dacey. It is a blessing that your heart has the capacity for love. For those who take the black, it is a blessing they are not afforded."

"Does that explain why Alliser Thorne looks like he sat on the wrong end of a spear?"

For the first time in a long time, Jeor leaned back, clutched his stomach in one hand and let out a laugh that echoed across the Wall. Dacey had to cover Jon's ears so he wouldn't end up crying.

"Gods be good, you have your mother's sense of humor, Dacey."

Jeor and Dacey walked together to the nearest post and looked out into the wilderness and vast lands beyond the Wall. The Haunted Forest lay there blanketed in snow and beyond it, where they could not see, was the Land of Always Winter.

"Uncle, why was the Wall built? Why is it so high and so wide? Is there more than just Wildlings out there that we have to look out for?"

Jeor sighed. "Have you heard your mother tell tales of battles long past?

Dacey nodded as she cradled Jon tenderly.

"Thousands of years ago, a darkness swept over the lands. With it came creatures of ice, decay and death. The First Men and the Children of the Forest came together to drive these creatures and all their forces back to the depths from which they came. Having seen the dangerous threat coming from the Land of Always Winter, Bran the Builder, with the aid of giants, the First Men as well as the Children, came together to erect this Wall; a construct of stone and ice interwoven with, if you can believe it, magic spells that would repel the Others and prevent their kind from crossing over into the realm."

Jeor held Dacey close to him as they looked out into the horizon.

"The days of peace were long and they made many people forget why we are here to begin with. When the threat became nothing more than Wildling raids, those noble and honorable recruits were replaced by criminals, runaways, outcasts, orphans, bastards and the dregs of society. What was once a noble calling is now an alternate form of punishment, a home for the forsaken and, for some, the one chance at redemption for a lifetime of terrible transgressions and debts unpaid."

"Are they coming back?" Dacey asked.

"If or when they do, I pray to the Gods that we are ready for them." Jeor said before leading Dacey back to the lift.

* * *

 **298AC - Winterfell**

"Why would my father take Jon to the Wall when he was still an infant?" Robb asked.

"He wanted to keep Jon in his sight and under his care. It was only one year after Robert's Rebellion ended. Your mother and father were not exactly on good speaking terms." Dacey said. Technically, she was not lying. It was true enough.

"Why did you go with them to Castle Black?"

"I also wanted to see my uncle at Castle Black." Dacey answered.

Though it was a challenge for him not to stare, Robb found himself admiring Dacey Mormont's body. By the same note, Dacey had looked over Robb several times. More and more with each day, she saw that he was no longer a boy.

As such, Robb asked about what Alysane, Lyra, Jorelle and Lyanna had talked about with Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon and Jon. "What did your sister mean by being able to control our direwolves?"

"It is not about controlling your direwolves." Dacey said as she looked at Grey Wind for a moment before looking back to Robb. "It is about coming together and forming a bond between yourselves and them. The greater the bond becomes, the more you strengthen one another."

"How would it strengthen me?" Robb asked. Dacey approached him and placed a warm hand upon his chest.

"You will feel your heart and Grey Wind's beat in unison. His senses will be yours. The endurance, stamina and speed you will possess will exceed that of any man. When the bond is strong enough, you can enter his mind and body, thus you will be able to fight and move through him. There is one danger is possessing his body too long, Robb."

"What danger is there?" Robb said, trying to calm his heart from being in such close contact with Dacey as she looked him in the eye. "Your soul will abandon your body, you will die and be imprisoned within Grey Wind forever."

He was about to ask how she knew so much of this when the answer came to him immediately.

Dacey and her sisters had this ability and knew how to use it.

"Can you and your sisters do this?" Robb asked.

Dacey nodded. "My sisters and I are skinchangers who can enter into the mind of other creatures. For many years, my sisters and I have bonded with bears. As you can imagine, those bonds have led to us inheriting certain traits."

"What kind of traits?" Robb asked in both awe and fear.

Dacey pushed Robb gently against the wall and held him in place with one hand. When Robb tried to move away, he couldn't move anywhere.

"Strength beyond that of seven or eight men. That is what allows me to keep you in place with such ease. Your strength will improve though not to the extent of mine. Is your shirt made of thick wool?" Dacey asked.

Robb nodded. "I thought so." In a small feat of strength, Dacey grabbed his shirt and tore it asunder, leaving his torso exposed to her. "My senses are heightened to those possessed by bears as well. It's how I can sense your fear and your excitement." Looking at his bare chest and abdomen, Dacey smiled. She had never seen Robb without a shirt and it was further proof that he was not a boy anymore.

"Along with the physical endurance and stamina of a bear, I have inherited a bear's tendency of mauling their enemies. You saw it with your own eyes when I put a thrashing on Theon not long ago." Dacey said as she leaned closer, pressing her body against Robb's.

"I remember that." Robb said as he tried desperately to keep his voice from cracking. Dacey was so close to him that he was sure that she could feel his cock growing hard against her. "If you and your sisters have those abilities, how did the Blackfish beat Lyra in a fight?"

"She fought carelessly and her mind was not on the fight. The Blackfish knew how to get in Lyra's head. Despite what she possessed and for all her ability, Lyra still lost. Remember that." Dacey took a breath before stepping away from Robb, giving him space and freeing him from her grip.

Taking steady breaths to calm the thunderous beating of his heart, Robb continued listening to Dacey as she spoke to him.

"While I am here in Winterfell, I will train you, Jon, Sansa and Rickon to bond with your wolves while I'm training you. My sisters will train Arya and Bran on Bear Island. There is one thing you must do if this is to work."

"What is it?" Robb asked.

"You can not boast this to anyone. We may be in the North but there's no way to know for certain who else may be listening. Alysane, Lyra, Jorelle and Lyanna have all said the same thing to Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon and Jon. Make sure that they keep to that rule along with yourself."

Picking up her cloak, Dacey turned her back to Robb. "Can you help me with my cloak?"

Robb was glad she wasn't looking; his face would have turned more red than his dark auburn hair. Walking over to her, Robb put the cloak over Dacey's shoulders; the mere touch of her body under his hands was enough to make his heart pound like war drums.

Turning around to face Robb, Dacey caressed his face with her hands and kissed him. "Pleasant dreams, Robb Stark."

"And to you as well, Dacey Mormont." Robb whispered.

* * *

"Gods, Lyra. You are incredible." Jon said as he wrapped his furs around his waist and took Lyra onto his lap. "Who taught you to do that?"

"You have Alysane to thank for that." Lyra said as she rolled her hips against his groin playfully. "While they were married, Alysane kept Jeron very happy. She taught me to do that along with swallowing my pride."

"I think you swallowed more than your pride tonight." Jon quipped with a subtle grin.

"Since when did you become the Master of Japes in the North." Lyra said as she sat on Jon's lap, reveling in the feel of his hands on her body. As a way of leveling the playing field, Lyra turned and pressed her ass against Jon's groin. "I'm glad you have a sense of humor. I do too." Lyra said, licking her lips before leaning back and kissing Jon. "I love you, Jon, and it does not mean one jot to me that your name is Snow."

"I love you, Lyra Mormont, but do you really want to spend your life with a bastard with nothing to inherit?"

Lyra ran her fingers through Jon's hair gently. "A Mormont woman takes whoever she wants as her mate. Jeron had naught but the fishing nets, a boat, a harpoon and the calloused hands he had to hold them. Alysane still married him. That should tell you all you need to know about us Mormont women when it comes to love, Jon Snow."

"What if you have children? What will become of them?" Jon asked.

Alysane knocked on the door, interrupting their talk before Lyra could answer. "I wish you could stay a bit longer." Jon said sadly.

Lyra leaned in and kissed Jon lovingly. "Ride out to the Bay of Ice. Look out onto the waters. If you can find the nerve to swim out to me, you can make my greatest fantasy come true." Lyra said.

In a show of what could have been the nerve she spoke of, Jon pulled Lyra close and kissed her as if it were the last time, his hands fondling her teats as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

Alysane walked in and smiled wistfully at her naked sister straddling Jon's lap as they kissed. "This is not farewell. You two will see each other again." Alysane said as she took Lyra's cloak from the floor and wrapped her sister in it. "Jon, I have to take my sister now. Perhaps she'll find a nice way to greet you in the morrow."

Jon blushed from Alysane's suggestive tone. "I suppose I ought to thank you for 'disciplining' your sister so well."

"A mug of cold beer in the morning when I break fast would be a good start." Alysane said as she led Lyra out of Jon's room.

* * *

A/n: How was it? I took time to really think about how the Jon/Lyra and Robb/Dacey scenes could play out and this was what I could come up with. Also, the flashback underwent some changes in the writing process. I thought it best that Dacey and Jeor display the differences of life on the Wall and life away from the Wall.


	15. Paths Chosen & Forsaken

Honor & Fealty chapter 15

* * *

From the Age of Heroes to long after Robert's Rebellion ended the regime of House Targaryen and beyond, House Tully stood as a pillar of the Riverlands, the most frequently used battleground for every feud, dispute and conflict in the realm.

House Tully and the Riverlands had become so synonymous with each other that one could not speak of either without mentioning the other.

Unlike other places like the North, the Reach, the Stormlands, the Vale and the Westerlands, the Tullys were never kings in the Riverlands. No matter how many battles they won or what favors they garnered from their countrymen and rulers along the way, not one member of House Tully ever wore a crown or ruled as either King of the Trident.

Hoster Tully and his brother, Brynden, along with Hoster's children; Catelyn, Lysa and Edmure, were all that remained of House Tully's lineage. Four silver trouts and the Blackfish.

Ser Brynden Tully, who had always been the one to speak out on things unspoken by his uptight brother, spoke candidly and privately with Lord and Lady Stark after breaking fast.

The latter of the two was more upset and disturbed than the former when Brynden told her of Howland Reed's omen for House Tully. Ned listened objectively to what was being discussed with his 'lord's face' firmly in place.

"Where does Lord Howland Reed get the audacity to speak in such a way against my family?" Catelyn demanded.

"Howland Reed does not bear any disrespect or ill will to our house, Catelyn, but the things he said were those I had come to suspect for a long time." Brynden answered. He did not want to be the bearer of bad news but such a task seemed to be inevitable.

"What have you come to suspect of House Tully, Ser Brynden?" Ned asked.

Brynden looked to each of them, took a deep breath and recited what he had been rehearsing in his mind for a long while. "Hoster's health will fail him and within the same year, he will die."

Using what strength she possessed, Catelyn looked at her uncle, gathered her thoughts and said, "Go to my father, uncle. The two of you have squabbled and feuded with each other long enough. Please try to make peace with him while the two of you are able to talk together."

"I can not make any promises and be called an oathbreaker through no fault of mine but I will see him. I will talk with him. If the Gods permit a miracle to happen, peace could be made between us. However, there are other matters that have robbed me of a good night's rest."

Brynden then spoke of the other predictions. Lysa would be lost to dementia; for what, he did not know and yet the Blackfish silently recalled a horrendous act ordered by Hoster Tully. In retrospect, it was the precursor to Lysa's madness.

When he spoke of Edmure and the fate that awaited him, Catelyn lost her restraint and composure. She rose from her chair and fled the room out of fear that she would lash out at her uncle.

Edmure Tully would be branded a traitor to the realm and the bane of the Riverlands.

What Brynden Tully did not know was that conflicting birthrights would tear his family apart.

While Ned was not unsympathetic or inconsiderate to Brynden Tully's plight, there was a matter he had to bring up. "In the event that Edmure Tully is unfit to take up the mantle, it would be your responsibility to be your brother's successor as Lord Paramount of the Riverlands."

"Lord Stark, I understand your reasoning and it is all valid but my brother's pride and stubbornness are legendary. He would curse me from beyond the grave if he saw the blackfish flying over the ramparts of Riverrun."

"When a Tully rules from Riverrun, does it make any difference what color the fish on their standard is?" Ned asked.

"Not in the least to me. All things being fair, my old arse was never made to polish a throne." Brynden argued.

"My elder brother was meant to become Lord of Winterfell. I never thought I was right to bear such a title, much less to be the Warden of the North. Yet here I am with both titles and all the responsibilities inherited from both laid upon my shoulders."

The old Riverman looked at Ned with a smirk. "Brandon was a wild man in his time. The same could be said for me. Had he lived, would he have made a proper Lord of Winterfell?"

"I will never know the answer to that question. What I may find out, if it does happen, is whether or not an old knight can be a good ruler."

* * *

Arya was in the middle of packing her clothes when Sansa entered her room. Though she often chastised her younger sister for her tomboyish ways, Sansa loved Arya deeply.

Lady entered with her master and approached Nymeria, who sat on her haunches by Arya's bed.

"I'm almost ready. Are the Mormonts waiting for me and Bran?" Arya asked.

"They are still in the Guest House gathering their belongings and helping Lady Dacey get her belongings in place. It may be a while until they are ready." Sansa said, taking notice of Arya's enthusiasm and excitement. "I have never seen you so excited as you are now. Why couldn't you show the same enthusiasm for the lessons taught to us here in Winterfell?"

"Because I don't want to be the docile wife to some lord and be expected to just bear children and run the household. You might have bought into that kind of life but I did not. Dacey and her sisters are able to do everything I could only dream of. They got to choose how they wanted to live."

"Those are not the things a proper lady does." Sansa argued.

"If that is true, I will never be a proper lady, Sansa." Arya snapped.

Sansa let out a sigh of resignation. "You already have your mind made up. I do not know if you will believe me when I say it but I will miss you."

Arya looked at Sansa with a softened glance and hugged her. "You are overbearing like Mother at times but I do love you and I will miss you too."

A knock on the door caught their attention. Sansa opened it to reveal Jon Snow and Lyra Mormont standing together with a parcel wrapped in cloth. "Is that what we were working on?" Sansa asked.

Lyra nodded. "Mikken crafted a good buckle to hold the belt around her waist."

Sansa smiled at what Lyra told her before noticing how the black-haired she-bear wore a dress that proudly displayed cleavage.

"Is it time yet?" Arya asked without noticing Lyra's dress as she and Jon entered the room with Ghost at their side.

"When Dacey and Alysane come for you, it will be time to go. We have something you ought to take with you on your journey to Bear Island." Lyra said as Jon revealed the short thin rapier sword. "I was waiting for the right time to give this to you. Mikken made this in secret. That is the only reason it took so long." Jon said.

"Be careful with that blade, Arya, and make sure you hold it properly. It's not a trinket or a toy." Lyra said as she showed Arya how to hold the sword by the hilt for ideal control and form. "It is no longsword and the edge is rather blunt. The real strength of this sword is for thrusting. When you are ready, we might see if you are fit enough for the longsword. "

"Jon, show her what Lyra and I worked on for Arya." Sansa said, catching Arya by surprise.

Jon revealed the scabbard for Arya's sword. Wolf's fur was sewn across and over the surface in the likeness of the scabbard which held Ice, the Valyrian greatsword of House Stark.

"Sansa and Lyra worked on the scabbard and the belt. Mikken forged the buckle." Jon said as he showed her the grey buckle with the engraved direwolf sigil in the middle.

"I love it." Arya said as she held the sword in both hands; her left hand closed on the hilt and the her right hand open to hold the blade. "This will change with you over time, Arya. Perhaps you will earn a pommel of your own or you will get a new sword. Whichever happens, there is one thing that remains the same."

"What is it?"

"You are the one who gets the credit and the blame for the blood drawn by it."

"Which is to say you should take care not to kill the wrong people." Jon said seriously.

Sansa helped to lighten the mood. "Have you thought of a name for your sword?"

Arya's hands have long felt the sting of the embroidery needle many times. The answer was simple enough.

"Needle." Arya spoke as she sheathed the sword in its scabbard.

* * *

Ser Garlan Tyrell was beyond upset when his father, Lord Mace Tyrell, in his oafish lack of logic and good sense, exiled Willas Tyrell to the North without aid from Highgarden as the price for turning his back on the Seven and the Reach to embrace the Old Gods.

Whether out of spite, his own vanity or as a slap to the face, Mace Tyrell then offered Willas the opportunity of returning home on the condition that he rededicate himself to the Faith of the Seven.

Garlan watched as his elder brother stood up with the aid of his cane and walked away from the dinner table. Their mother's pleas for Willas to change his mind were in vain. Though he was a learned man, Willas Tyrell also had a stubbornness about him. He would never give his father the satisfaction of having broken him.

Garlan sought out his elder brother and found him packing the few belongings that were truly his as well as picking his best horses, a flock of his choicest hawks and all his faithful hounds to go with him on his journey.

"Why are you going through with this madness?" Garlan asked. "There are other ways to make a statement than this."

"I'm sick of being kept in Highgarden and being called its heir while such antics are being played between our father and grandmother. He may be our father, Garlan, but I do not want anyone ever confusing me for a younger Mace Tyrell."

Garlan laughed. "Brother, even a blind man could tell you are leagues away from Mace Tyrell. Tell me true. What is it that compels you to pray before a weirwood tree in the godswood rather than at the alters in a sept?"

"I have found peace and clarity in the godswood. Those are things I have sorely needed. With that, there is a simplicity in the faith kept by the Northmen." Willas said as he patted his hounds tenderly. "Long ago, our family toiled the fields in servitude. Perhaps my hands need to know the grunt of hard work."

"Such an endeavor can not be accomplished by one man alone, even if that one man is you, Willas. You will need help and Father has already banned you from taking the farmers and gardeners in service to Highgarden."

"Then I will look to the farmers in the fields and the smallfolk. I will ask them to join me in my journey to the North." Willas spoke with a firm resolve in his voice.

"Good luck with that, Willas. Most of the smallfolk in the Reach stand in the Light of the Seven and have never known the winters above the Neck. Do you think any of them will cast down their plows, pack their belongings and leave their cozy summer homes in the Reach to join you out in the cold wilderness of the North?"

"Maybe not here but somewhere out there, I can find perhaps a handful of gardeners who will join me."

"I support you completely, Willas, but my hands were more fit to hold a sword than a plow. Leonette would not take well to the cold either." Garlan replied before taking one last chance to change his brother's mind. "If you are tired of being in Highgarden, you could go to the Stormlands and spend time with Margaery and Loras. There is no need to go so far as the North. "

"Garlan, you are my brother and I love you but you are wrong. There is a need for such a long journey. I shall take my hounds, horses and hawks with me as I journey to the North. I bred them myself. I raised them myself. They are mine. I will find refuge with House Manderly if they will have me."

"Leonette put together a basket of morsels for you. It is a long journey to the North and you ought to get your fill. Our mother and grandmother, Gods be good, will have both of us beaten thrice over if you were to starve." Garlan put the basket overstuffed with fruits, breads, vegetables and berries to Willas along with a cask of Arbor Gold.

"Safe travels, brother. May the Gods, Old and New, preserve you." Garlan said as he embraced Willas, who hugged him back.

* * *

The next day, with his hawks and hounds all traveling with him, as Willas kissed his mother goodbye, Lord Randyll Tarly arrived with his eldest son and made an astounding request. "Lord Willas Tyrell, while I do not agree with your decision to forsake the gods of your father and forefathers, I respect your decisions. It's not every Reachman who stands up on his own two feet to find his way in the world. If it is not out of your way, I ask that you take my son, Samwell, with you to see if he can be made an heir worthy of my name, lands and titles. If he fails to earn the privilege of bearing the Tarly name under your care, I ask that you send him to the Wall so he may take the black and forsake any claim to his inheritance."

"Lord Tarly, why would you cast out your first born son in such a way?" Willas asked though he was in a somewhat similar circumstance. "Samwell is a kind boy with a sharp mind but he has failed me as my heir. My second son, Dickon, is more fit to become Lord of Horn Hill than Samwell will ever be."

Willas looked to the sullen Samwell Tarly and called him over. When the boy was at his side, Willas spoke directly to him without looking once at Lord Randyll. "Samwell Tarly, the road before us will be long and arduous. The place we are going to will test us in more ways than one. Will you ride alongside me and aid me in my endeavors through it all?"

"I shall, my lord." Samwell spoke humbly.

Randyll Tarly did not even acknowledge his son or bid him farewell. He turned his back on Samwell, mounted his horse and rode away.

Samwell had only the few belongings he had and several books in his bags along with the clothes and cloak on his back.

"The North may be far away from all we ever knew but there is one thing I know for certain, Samwell Tarly."

"What is that, my lord?" Samwell asked.

"Adventure and excitement await beyond the horizon."

"If either of those are what my father made me endure, I would sooner take a small piece of land in the corner of the world where I could live out my days in peace and quiet."

Willas smiled kindly at Sam. "You are young. Give yourself a few years to live and those sentiments may change."

Loading his personal effects in the back of the wheelhouse, which held Willas's hounds and hawks as well as his belongings, Samwell climbed up to the front and sat at the right of Willas, who held the reins in his hands. At the rear of the wheelhouse were two mares, two cobs and two palfreys.

There was no crowd gathered to see them off or bid them farewell. Lady Alerie Tyrell could not bear to see her firstborn son leave and so she kept herself deep within the walls of Highgarden. Mace Tyrell did not want to acknowledge his son's departure.

Yet from the gardens that possessed a grand view to the east, the Queen of Thorns looked out and watched as her eldest grandson and the fat Tarly boy rode out onto the Rose Road.

* * *

"What is there in the North that makes you so eager to get there, if I may ask?" Samwell asked as they arrived at Blackwater Rush. They took time to pause and feed their horses as well as the hawks and hounds. Samwell immediately formed a bond with Willas Tyrell's dogs and petted them lovingly as they ate their fill.

"From this day on, you can ask whatever you wish, Sam. I can not promise I will have an answer to every question though." Willas answered as he checked the spokes and axles of the wheelhouse.

"In the North, I have been told tales of wild, uncivilized men who settle their disputes with sword and axe, of women who live in ways that are unbecoming of noble ladies and barren lands of ice and snow as far as from the Neck to the Wall. For a time in my childhood, I believed them. I do not think those tall tales are so believable anymore."

Before they could get back onto their journey, they were met by soldiers from the Stormlands, along with the Lord of Storm's End, Renly Baratheon. At the young lord's side was Willas's sister, the Golden Rose of Highgarden, Lady Margaery of House Tyrell, and his youngest brother, Loras Tyrell. From the looks of it, he was Lord Renly's squire.

"Willas Tyrell, you have been the cause of quite an uproar among the smallfolk. They say a rose of Highgarden abandoned the Seven and his family. At first, I did not know what to make of it. Now I see it for myself."

"What do I owe this audience, Lord Renly?" Willas asked.

"My brother has chosen to hunt in the Stormlands this fine day. He's at a camp, relishing in his kill and soaking his tongue in Dornish Red. The news of your departure has not gone unnoticed by him in spite of how much he has drank. King Robert would like to see you before you continue on your way."

Willas knew that he could talk his way out of having to banter with Lord Renly but when it was King Robert who called him forward, he had no choice. He had to go meet with King Robert.

* * *

A/n: I have an idea of what to do with Samwell Tarly and Willas Tyrell. At the same time, I'm kind of on the fence about who to ship Willas Tyrell with.


	16. North Bound

Honor & Fealty chapter 16

* * *

King Robert was once a man of great stature and build. The battles he fought in throughout the Rebellion that bore his name have all become legend. His war hammer, the same one that felled Prince Rhaegar of House Targaryen in the Ruby Ford, was such that only Robert himself could lift it and wield it proficiently.

Women flocked to him by the droves and men aspired to be him.

That man had long since faded into folklore and legend.

The man who now sat on the Iron Throne as Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm was a far cry from the conquering warrior known to some as the Demon of the Trident.

King Robert of the House Baratheon of King's Landing sat at a large table filled with all kinds of food and drink. It was a great hunt as he began devouring the spoils of it from the moment they were cooked and ready to serve. He was 15 years older with a corpulent belly barely hidden beneath his dark clothes though the dark beard with strands of grey hide his double chin. His boisterous spirit and insatiable appetites were weighed down by the crown on his head and the duties tied to it.

Renly Baratheon led Willas and Margaery Tyrell his eldest brother and announced them in place of his squire, Loras Tyrell.

While Margaery demonstrated patience laced with grace and civility in regards to Willas choosing a different faith, Loras was taken aback upon learning of Willas Tyrell renouncing the Seven and embracing the Gods held by the Northmen. If Lord Renly's decree that no animosity be shown among family while in his presence did not keep him in line, the Lord of Storm's End threatened the promise of knighthood made not so long ago and that did the trick.

Using his restraint and willpower to push his internal strife aside, Loras aided his elder brother down from his horse.

With Margaery aiding him, Willas Tyrell approached King Robert with an air of strength and resolve, his head held high and his eyes hardened.

"Your Grace. I'm honored to receive an invitation from you. To what do I owe this audience?" Willas asked eloquently as King Robert took a long pull from his chalice of Dornish Red.

King Robert looked at the exiled heir to Highgarden with a look that either read anger or suspicion. Silently, he motioned for Willas and Margaery to sit before him.

Upon sitting down, Willas and Margaery waited for the King to commence the discussion. "I do not like your father. He supported the long dead House Targaryen and launched a piss poor siege against Storm's End. I will never invite that fat oaf to sit in my Small Council. My squire has a better character than what Mace Tyrell will ever know for himself."

"Your Grace, for good or ill, we love our father dearly. Even then, I confess that I am inclined to agree with you wholeheartedly." Margaery said, her hand placed upon Willas's as an unspoken way of keeping their composure.

"My father has been led more by his gusto and desire for goodwill rather than by the skills and attributes known to led men to great heights and some others, present company especially included, to prominence. Alas, my father's antics have become quite tiresome. It was to this reason that I sought refuge in the Stormlands with my brother, Loras. Even the smallfolk would tell me how the sense inherited by a Stormlord is equal to the most learned man in the Citadel, especially a Stormlord of House Baratheon."

King Robert smiled beneath his beard and mustache momentarily. _If there is a Tyrell with good sense, then the Gods may very well exist._ "One hears many tales of your beauty and grace, Lady Margaery. If your father had a tenth of your skill, he might have made a half decent Warden of the South." King Robert said before turning his attention to the eldest son of Mace Tyrell. "You, on the other hand, are a different matter. There are those who have taken to calling you the Heathen of Highgarden, Tree Kneeler and the Cursed Flower. In the presence of the Gods, both Old and New, answer my questions true. Why would you, Willas Tyrell, cast away the gods of your father and house to embrace the Old Gods? Is this a delayed act of youthful rebellion? The Gods know I have had plenty of those in the days of my youth."

Willas tightened his grip on his cane as he gathered his thoughts together. "Your Grace, I am not my father. I may bear the name of Tyrell but I feel no pride when someone remarks that I am my father's son. I want to make it known to the entire Realm, from Dorne to the Wall, that I am not in any likeness to Mace Tyrell. As for which Gods I keep, actions speak louder than words. I learned that from your exploits in the Rebellion, which bears your name, Your Grace."

King Robert bellowed out a laugh and slammed his meaty fist on the table. "No wonder you left the Reach. Mace Tyrell would have been shown what a real leader is if either you or Margaery stayed in Highgarden."

While a myriad of ideas began to saturate and stir in King Robert's wine-pickled mind and plans began to form in Margaery's, Willas Tyrell was only thinking about getting back to his wheelhouse and continuing his journey to the North.

* * *

It was a tough farewell and it took many reassurances from Arya and Bran, though more the latter than the former, that it was not goodbye forever. Alysane, being the only one of the five Mormont sisters who was a mother, approached Lady Stark and promised her that Arya and Bran would be fostered on Bear Island for a year and that they would be protected fiercely.

Though it did nothing to dry her tears, Catelyn Stark believed Alysane though it made no sense to her why she did.

Brynden Tully held Catelyn in his arms as Arya and Bran along with Nymeria and Summer rode out of Winterfell with Alysane, Lyra, Jorelle, Lyanna, Sarea and Beron Mormont while soldiers loyal to House Stark provided additional protection.

Looking away from the East Gate, Catelyn saw Ned standing still with stoicism masking whatever emotions were boiling beneath the surface of his facade.

It angered her that he could be so calm while she was in emotional turmoil.

Then she felt a fire ignite in her blood when she saw Robb and Jon talking together with Dacey Mormont. Her misery turned into blind rage and it was only her uncle's embrace that kept her from doing something absolutely foolish. "Go to the Small Sept now. Pray to the Seven if you must. Remember that this is what Arya and Bran wanted. They made this decision for themselves." Brynden ordered.

The day went on as any other day but Catelyn was, if it was possible, more withdrawn from Ned.

Late at night, when everyone else was asleep, Brynden happened to catch a a glimpse of Dacey Mormont leading Robb, Sansa, Rickon and Jon Snow into the godswood with their direwolves. They would stay there for a long while. In the morning, Robb and Jon rose before the sun did and Dacey proceeded to run them hard around the entire perimeter of Winterfell.

Rodrik Cassel would later say that even he had never seen such a demanding commander since the days of his youth.

Dacey's training regimen involved teaching Robb and Jon not to look pretty while fighting but being lethal and effective when it came to battle against formidable enemies.

Brynden stuck around to balance out Dacey's offensive training with his defensive regimens.

Catelyn noticed this all and was of two minds in regards to her uncle teaching her son and Ned's bastard.

Robb was meant to be the Heir to Winterfell. There were many reasons why he would need the training and discipline. A part of her was somewhat thankful for it.

Jon was a bastard who would inherit nothing. In a part of her soul that she would not share even with the Seven, Catelyn had wished that some ill fate would befall Jon and she would not have to live with the evidence of her husband's infidelity in Winterfell.

Even after so many years, Catelyn remembered the image of that seven year old girl holding the two infants in her arms. Now that she was a woman grown and they were boys on the cusp of manhood, Dacey still loved Robb and Jon equally and held them closer than before. When they both were winded and feeling the brunt of her training, Dacey would pick them up, hug them and whisper something into their ears. What was said between them, only the Gods knew.

* * *

"Are you certain?" Mya asked as they rode through the Bloody Gate together. He loved horses while she loved mules.

"Yes. The Northern mountains may not be as grand as those in the Vale but they are such that you would enjoy them, Mya." Domeric Bolton replied. "This would go a long way in repaying my debt to you."

Mya smiled thinly. A year ago, Domeric thought to seek out his bastard brother, Ramsay Snow, and build a bond between them but Mya warned him against it.

Mya looked him straight in the eye and told him, "Your house is a damned one. That is to be sure if I were to only know you by your family's history. Whatever you did not inherit from your father, you can bet every gold dragon in a Lannister's pocket that your bastard brother did. It may sound strange that one bastard should speak such things about another person's kin but I really doubt he turned out like you."

Instead of going back to the North and finding Ramsay, thus winding up in an early grave, Domeric chose to stay one more year in the Vale with Mya Stone, who became his closest friend. He knew of her love for Mychel Redfort, who took Mya's virginity a few days before he was set to leave.

When the time came for his return to the North, Mya Stone and her mules rode out with Domeric Bolton. They stopped for a while in Lord Harroway's Town for the night.

As they stayed in a moderate yet well kept inn, Mya bathed herself to calm her nerves but when her hands reached her abdomen, she thought of Mychel and the likelihood that his seed was about to take hold within her womb and grow into a child.

Then the smell of blood filled her nose and the waters turning red was the tell tale sign.

Her Moon's Blood came. Mya Stone was not with child.

The next day, Domeric and Mya broke their fasts though he was surprised when she started the day with a large stein of ale. On the way out, they crossed paths with a well groomed man who leaned on a cane and a young, thick bodied boy of fifteen timid years. It didn't take long before they became fast friends.

Domeric instantly found a deep respect for Willas, who bred the finest horses in the Reach while becoming a friend with Samwell, who had just as keen a mind for histories and books as he did. Mya chose to join Tyrell, Tarly and Bolton for the prospect of adventure and excitement.

Willas told them of his journey and, as if moved by the Gods to do so, Domeric and Mya chose to join him and Sam.

Willas sought a nice place where he could tend crops and reap a bountiful harvest and say it was sown by his hand and not that of Mace Tyrell. He wanted to break away from his father's shadow and cast one of his own.

Mya fled out of fear and uncertainty but now she saw that the world was much more than rock and stone pathways. The land of opportunity and adventure lay there before her and she was going to take with both hands.

Samwell was cast out for being a craven and failing his father as the future heir to Horn Hill. The reputation of House Tarly was more important to Lord Randyll than the life of his first born son. Sam had no doubt that his father was counting on him meeting some untimely death in the North so that Dickon would be made heir to Horn Hill and Heartsbane. He did not know if he could ever be made brave but he had nowhere else to go and Willas Tyrell would need the aid of an able bodied young man in the days to come.

Domeric Bolton often wondered why his family was looked down upon by the other houses until he read the histories. The Red Kings of the Dreadfort had long feuded with the Kings of Winter, who everyone loved and looked up to. The Boltons were sadists and torture specialists. It was no surprise then that Lord Stark never invited any member of Ryswell, Dustin or Bolton to Winterfell for the celebration of the Winter Harvest. He wanted to break away from that gory and gruesome family history and reform House Bolton.

They stood at the crossroads, trying to figure out which road to take. Torrhen's Square was to the west, White Harbor to the east and Winterfell was straight up.

Domeric spoke up first. "I ought to not speak ill of my family but House Bolton is not known for their grand hospitality, Tyrell. Why don't we go to White Harbor? House Manderly will give us a better welcoming than my father."

"Are they going to take reservations against me for turning away from the Seven?" Willas asked.

"Not really. They have the Snowy Sept in town and a heart tree in their godswood." Domeric said.

Willas smiled before turning to Mya and Sam. "How about you two? Do you feel like eating fish for supper?"

"Of course. White Harbor's fame comes from their seafood or so I've heard." Sam said.

Mya smirked. "Sounds good. As long as nothing happens to my mules along the way."

And so they rode out to White Harbor together.

* * *

A/n: I have heard the incessant suggestion of Willas/Sansa but I already have Sansa slated to wed the Smalljon. There is someone else I have in mind for Willas and I think it will work out well enough. As for Domeric and Mya, I wanted to give the former a second chance and the latter a chance to be utilized in this story, especially since she unconsciously became friends with Sansa.


	17. Unexpected Twists & Turns

Honor & Fealty chapter 17

* * *

Upon their arrival at Deepwood Motte, House Glover greeted the Mormonts and the Starks.

While servants fed the horses, others were preparing the longboat for the journey across the water to Bear Island. That gave the Mormont women time to talk with Arya and Bran.

"What is it going to be like when we get to Bear Island, Jorelle?" Bran asked Jorelle as Lyanna stood at his right and Arya stood at Jorelle's left.

"Six days of training and chores. The seventh day, we get to use at our leisure but those of us who are trained have to keep our weapons at all times if we leave Mormont Keep." Jorelle explained.

"There are rivers and even a waterfall on Bear Island. Bran is going to love trying to climb the soldier pines and the other trees. There is even a hidden cove where Lyra used to take guys for her own kind of fun." Lyanna said. Lyra joined them in time to hear her sister reveal her favorite refuge.

"Those days are long past and behind me, Lyanna. If I do take anyone there, it will be when Jon decides to swim with me." Lyra said, her face lighting up as she thought of Jon.

"Do you really love Jon or does he just serve to stoke your fires, Lyra?" Jorelle asked. She had no patience for her older sisters and their tendencies for falling in love with men. It seemed ridiculous to her that a Mormont woman could be snared so easily.

"When you reach my age, Jory, you will sing a different tune, especially when you fall in love for the first time." Lyra said.

Arya scoffed, causing Lyra to laugh. "That goes for you too, Arya."

"Jorelle and I will never be snared so easily." Arya declared defiantly, making Jorelle grin at the young wolf pup's spirit. "Absolutely, Arya. We'll let our older sisters grow fat and sprout out babies. You and I will live our lives riding out into adventure, fighting off Wildlings, killing Ironborn shits, hunting our supper in the Wolfswood and drowning our tongues in Northern ale."

"We'll get to drink ale?" Arya asked in surprise.

"If we can take a life, we can drink an ale." Jorelle replied.

Jorelle and Arya were so wrapped up in talking about the adventures they would have to look forward to that Alysane shocked them when she called them all to halt. "If you take a life, Jorelle Mormont, you better have a damn good reason for it other than quenching a thirst."

Alysane looked at Jorelle and Arya with a smirk at their contrite expressions. They were all too excited about leading lives of adventure in the wilderness and beyond the horizons. "Gods have mercy on the two of you. You are wild and unruly but even you two will grow up just like the rest of us."

"Alysane, I love you, Sarea and Beron with all my heart but I will never find myself in the family way and waddling like a goose while waiting for an infant to pop out from between my legs. It may have been what you wanted but that will never be for myself or Arya."

Arya stood right by Jorelle and held her hand as a show of solidarity.

Alysane smiled at them with a knowing smile. "When the two of you come of age, your bodies and minds will change. You'll look at boys very differently. Then we'll see what happens."

Jorelle scoffed at that until Sarea walked up to her and asked, "You don't want to be a mother one day, Aunt Jory?"

In spite of what she felt about it, Jorelle could not bring herself to infuse her defiance into Sarea, who was still impressionable. "Sarea, there's nothing wrong with it. It's just not what I want. I would not be able to go out and have adventures if I had to keep the house and attend to children."

"The woman who stands at Mormont Keep is able to hold an axe and feed her child. Grandmother had you, my mother, Aunt Dacey, Aunt Lyra and Aunt Lyanna. That did not stop her from being Lady of Bear Island."

Jorelle was taken aback at how Sarea cut right through her argument as if her tongue bore the same edge as Valyrian steel. "How did you get so smart?"

"She inherited her father's mind and has me to keep her on her studies, Jorelle." Alysane said with a mother's pride for her baby before leaning in and whispering into her sister's ear.

"He's been watching us since we entered the Wolfswood."

"I know. It was as though he knew which route we would take to get home. Do I dare to ask how long he was there?" Jorelle asked. The young boy in question was the only son of Lord Howland of House Reed. There was no animosity between those of Bear Island to those of the Neck but the crannogmen remained as unusual as they ever were.

"Long before we left Winterfell." Alysane replied with a smirk. "It is rather cute that you caught the eye of a young lad like him without even trying."

"I could roast a hog on a spit over a fire and kill Jojen long before the hog had a chance to cook in it's own juices." Jorelle said. In her youthful mind, she only saw how incapable Jojen was to not only take up arms but as well to defend himself.

Arya had no idea who they were talking about until Alysane explained it to her.

"The crannogmen of the Neck are unique in their ways, whether it is their defense of the North from Southron invaders, their lifestyle or in their courting of women. Most of all, Jojen Reed has never been the kind to take the direct approach."

Jorelle did not have any personal strife or ill will for Jojen Reed but he was strange on his best days. The idea that Jojen could see through her or into the unknown was not lost on her.

In her stubbornness, Jorelle Mormont could not see the possibility of her being swept up by Lord Howland Reed's only son.

* * *

Ser Brynden Tully stayed in Winterfell for seven days to help Catelyn deal with the separation anxiety and provide a stable source of solace. Apart from the pain of watching Arya and Bran leave Winterfell, Brynden saw how Catelyn's eyes were set ablaze whenever she saw Dacey Mormont with Robb and Jon. It was akin to being reminded of who was really influencing the children of House Stark and it was not a silver trout from the Riverlands.

Catelyn had long ago accepted the fact that the Tully name and ideals would not be passed on to her children. They were Starks and nothing could ever change that. What got under her skin was knowing that Arya and Bran were influenced more by the Mormonts than by her, their own mother.

In order to finally lay her burdens to rest, Brynden brought both his niece and the heir to Bear Island together for a long overdue discussion. Catelyn told Dacey everything she felt about Arya and Bran's antics and what she thought about the Mormonts. For the most part, Dacey showed restraint as she listened. "Lady Stark, you and I will always be opposites to each other. You came from the South, I am of the North. We keep to different faiths and the histories have not done anything to bring us together. There is one thing you and I have in common though. We both love Robb and want only the best for him."

It was the first time Dacey ever spoke of such matters and it was the first time Catelyn finally heard the confirmation of her suspicions. "He is still in many ways a boy whereas you are a woman full grown. Of all the Northmen between the Wall and the Neck, why did you cast your eyes upon my eldest son?"

"I have loved Robb ever since the day I held him in my arms. Only now, those feelings have changed into something else. I may be older than him but I believe I can steer him away from his worst impulses."

In thinking this over, Catelyn trusted Dacey. She did not have any ambitions of trying to move up in social circles and possessed a more sincere motive for her actions than most others she could think of.

Once he was certain that the she bear and his niece were not at each other's throats anymore, Ser Brynden Tully left Winterfell and began the long journey back to the Riverlands.

It was only when he got to Moat Cailin and spotted a contingent of soldiers loyal to House Manderly of White Harbor alongside numerous crannogmen loyal to House Reed of Greywater Watch that he realized that fate had set a new path before him.

When he got close enough, Ser Brynden was approached by the sons of Lord Wyman Manderly.

"Ser Brynden Tully. Thank the Gods for bringing you to us." Ser Wylis Manderly said. "We are in need of your aid."

"What is the matter?" Ser Brynden asked.

"I think you ought to come and see for yourself. We'll explain the rest." Ser Wendel Manderly answered.

The Blackfish was escorted by the Manderly brothers into the ruins of Moat Cailin. Seven captives were bound in chains and gagged with rags. The older man of the seven had several hounds chained up next to him with muzzles to keep them from biting anyone.

Ser Wendel pointed to each of them and spoke their names. "Grunt, Skinner, Sour Alyn, Luton, Damon Dance-For-Me and Yellow Dick. The old man there is Ben Bones."

"What does this have to do with me and why would I care about these dregs?"

"Absolutely nothing and no reason whatsoever. It's only that we know who they serve." Ser Wylis noted solemnly.

"They don't wear the sigil but I recognize Ben Bones. If they are with him, that means they have sworn their services to either the Leech Lord of the Dreadfort or his Bastard. I'm leaning to the latter more than the former. Whatever else he may be, Roose Bolton has never sought the title of kinslayer. His bastard though is a different story." Ser Wendel explained.

"The crannogmen spotted them camped out in Moat Cailin as if they were waiting for someone to cross the Neck. There was talk in White Harbor of Domeric Bolton's fostering ending this year. The crannogmen did a splendid job at taking the seven captive."

"Why do you think they were camped here?" Ser Brynden asked only to have another voice answer his question.

"There is no need to think about the answer. I know what it is." Lord Howland Reed said as he emerged from the shadows and approached the three knights. "Domeric Bolton is the only highborn son of Lord Roose Bolton. In the event of the Leech Lord's death, Domeric will inherit the Dreadfort along with the titles, holdings and lands that go with it. If he were to die, Roose Bolton would have no choice but to find a way to legitimize his bastard son so as to continue the Bolton line."

"Bolton's bastard is behind this?" Ser Brynden asked.

Lord Howland Reed nodded. "We already have a good idea of what to do with these seven. What we did not know though, until you showed up, was what to do with our guests. Now we do."

"What do you plan to do with the seven here?" Ser Wendel asked the Lord Paramount of the Neck.

Howland Reed simply pulled the gag out of Yellow Dick's mouth. "Like it or not, you are the spokesman for your friends and yourself. You trespassed on my territory by showing up unannounced. That is bad enough but then plotting against the son of Lord Bolton is even worse. So you can either return to the Dreadfort, where Roose may be waiting for you all with his thin blades at the ready or you can be properly introduced to the animal that serves as the sigil of my house. I'll leave the decision to you."

Yellow Dick only responded with spitting on Howland Reed's boot and saying, "Fuck the Neck and you, swamp-dweller."

With a tilt of his head, Howland Reed signaled the crannogmen into action. Within moments, Yellow Dick and his cohorts were put up on their feet and marched into the Neck.

The momentary screams were heard by Howland Reed's guests as the six servants of Ramsey Snow were fed to the lizard lions and other creatures of the Neck.

Not a fuck was given from either the Blackfish or the Manderly brothers.

Ben Bones was the only one still alive. The hounds, which he revealed were trained to kill wolves, were also cut down in front of him by the crannogmen. In comparison to what happened to the others, the hounds died a quick death before being fed to the creatures of the Neck.

Lord Howland Reed stood over him and loosened the shackles that bound his wrists and ankles.

"Either go to the Wall or board the first vessel bound for Essos. If my men see you move towards the Dreadfort, they will put a bolt through your head. Understood?"

Ben Bones nodded and scurried away. The soldiers of White Harbor watched as he ran towards White Harbor. The Lord of the Dreadfort could not flay him if he was on the other side of the Narrow Sea.

Ser Brynden was surprised at the authority exuded and demonstrated by Lord Howland Reed, who then nocked an arrow into his bow, ignited the head and loosed it up into the air as a signal.

"You asked me why we needed your aid, Ser Brynden. I will tell you when my guests arrive."

It was not long until they were joined by a group of four travelers.

A young man with a lame leg leaning on his cane, a fat boy who had just begun to grow facial hair, a tomboyish girl with short hair and deep blue eyes and a young man with shoulder length dark hair.

"Ser Brynden Tully, these are my guests. Willas Tyrell and Samwell Tarly of the Reach, Mya Stone of the Vale and Domeric Bolton of the North."

"This is why we need your help, Ser Brynden. They do not have anyone else to aid them. In many ways, they are on their own. While they are well learned, none of them possess your combat training. We need you to watch over them and train those you are able to."

"Lord Reed, with the greatest respect due to you, I am more than capable and willing to be taught." Mya Stone declared.

"You are in the North, Stone. Women here have been known to take up arms. With an ounce of my training, you'll fit right in." Brynden remarked before addressing the two Reachmen. "Why are you two here?"

"Disagreements with our fathers." Willas said as he shook hands with Ser Brynden. "I know of you, Ser Brynden Tully. I admire your audacity and bold approach. It is my hope to one day possess such qualities in myself."

"In spite of your leg, Tyrell, you and Tarly are still young. There's still time for the both of you to find your own path in life. The cost may be high though and you will have to live with your decisions the rest of your life just as I have."

"My father cast me out solely because the Tarly name meant more to him than a craven like me. I chose to journey with Lord Willas because he needed the aid and I was not eager to take the black like my father who wanted me to become a Crow so my brother Dickon could become his successor." Sam said in a melancholic tone.

Ser Brynden looked at Sam before saying, "Raise your eyes to me, boy."

Sam did as he was ordered. The Blackfish looked him in the eye and said, "Fear strikes every man. What sets them apart is not the violence he commits. It is how he is able to function in spite of his fear. Ser Barristan the Bold and I were young men once. There were many times where we came close to meeting the Stranger. If you choose to stand with Willas and your friends, make it your aim to overcome your fear. Understand, boy?"

"Yes, I do, Ser Tully."

"Good. Now if you got horses, mount them. We ride forth to White Harbor. By the time we get there, a kennelmaster will be aboard a ship bound for Essos or bound for the bottom of the Narrow Sea." Brynden quipped.

* * *

Days after Brynden Tully left Winterfell, Sansa Stark's future husband chose to pay a visit after a successful hunt.

Lord and Lady Stark stood ready to welcome him along with Robb and Sansa. Dacey, Jon and Theon stood nearby but at a distance. When the time came, Sansa's future husband rode through the East Gate with a contingent of 13 soldiers loyal to House Umber surrounding him.

For a time, Catelyn had thought to break off the betrothal but thought against it after finally making peace with Dacey Mormont. Now she was prepared to take the proverbial leap of faith in her daughter's betrothal to the heir of Last Hearth.

He was a tall, strapping young lad with a beard and height to match his father, the Greatjon, though his hair was kissed by fire like Catelyn and Sansa. At the age of 18, Jon Umber, better known amongst the Northmen as 'The Smalljon', was a man grown.

He rode upon a destrier with a greatsword across his back and a large, dead boar laid across the front of his saddle.

Dismounting his horse, the Smalljon grabbed the boar by its hind legs, raised it up and roared, "I brought supper!"

Lord Stark did something that was unnerving to Lady Stark. He smiled. His teeth were hidden but his lips curled up into a thin grin of sorts.

Smalljon Umber, to Catelyn's surprise, turned out to be more of a gentleman than what his appearance suggested. His build combined with his weapons and armor made him look like he was ready to ride off to war at a moment's notice.

He greeted Dacey Mormont with a big bear hug, lifting her off the ground easily. Dacey just smiled as she hugged Smalljon. It appeared as if the both of them were close friends. "Dacey Mormont, Gods be good, you look beautiful as you did the last time I saw ya!"

"It's good to see you again, Smalljon." Dacey said with a laugh as she wrapped her arms around Smalljon's thick neck.

When it came to meeting Robb, Smalljon stood stoic and stern as the heir to Winterfell offered a hand to him.

The Smalljon surprised Robb when he grabbed him in his arms and hugged him. "To think I'll soon call you brother!"

Robb could not help himself from laughing at the Smalljon's spirit. "Soon, Smalljon, but not yet. Until then, I could still call you my friend and my fellow countryman."

Putting Robb back on his feet, Smalljon Umber smiled. "Then I would be a fool to not accept."

When he stood before Sansa, the Smalljon's behavior changed instantly.

He bent the knee so she would not have to lean her head back to look him in the eye.

"My lady Sansa, I am Jon of House Umber. It is my greatest honor and privilege to meet you at long last." Smalljon said. "You are all I imagined you would be and more than I could dream of." Sansa smiled at his manners and his words. His beard and mustache tickled the back of her hand as he kissed it.

In the days to come, the Smalljon diplayed many things to Catelyn.

He embraced Jon Snow in the same way he did for Robb Stark. When it came to sparring, it took the two of them to match the Smalljon, who used a greatsword as if it were an ordinary longsword.

His friendship with Dacey Mormont proved interesting since they seemed to jape with each other like compatriots of the battlefield. It was he who provided the most challenges to her when it came to battle. But in the end, no matter how sore she felt, she and the Smalljon would be in arms, chugging down mugs of beer with smiles on their faces.

Most of all, he was genuinely interested in hearing Sansa tell him of the histories she studied in her lessons with Septa Mordane. Smalljon listened with rapt attention as she sang songs to him and showed him her embroideries. Her talents and mind were as interesting to him as was her character. He sensed a strength deep beneath her exterior that had yet to awaken and emerge though he kept those thoughts to himself. One time, when he went to the Wall with his father, Lord Commander Mormont told him that a fool opens his mouth and reveals his deepest thoughts but a wise man knows when to keep his mouth shut.

The moment that warmed Catelyn up to the idea of having the Smalljon as her son by law came when she was praying in the Small Sept.

She had finished her prayers and turned to leave when a shadow fell upon her.

The Smalljon had entered the Small Sept and looked around curiously as if he were a child seeing something for the first time.

"I have never been in one of these places before. Darrik, Alora, Avya and I would usually pray in the godswood." Smalljon looked at the depictions of the Seven. "Who are they, if I may ask, Lady Stark?"

Catelyn was taken aback by his curiosity and his desire to learn but gathered her thoughts quick enough to answer. She pointed to each of them, naming the Seven one by one.

"The Father, the Mother, the Warrior, the Smith, The Maiden, The Crone and the Stranger."

The Smalljon stroked his beard for a moment before saying, "I bet you were praying to the Crone. That old lady must have lived long enough to gain wisdom and patience."

Catelyn let out a soft laugh at how close the Smalljon was at his presumption. "From first glance, I thought that you were modeled after the Warrior himself." Catelyn spoke, causing the Smalljon to smile.

"My father would have laughed before arguing that the Warrior took his likeness and character after having supper at Last Hearth while shoulder to shoulder with the men of House Umber." Smalljon said, bringing an amused smile to Catelyn's face.

This was not lost on him by a league. "I count it a great victory if I can make the woman who might very well be my mother by law smile."

"How are you better spoken than I imagined?" Catelyn asked.

"Alora and Avya told me to stand upright, be well spoken and to not act like a drunken Wildling. They may be younger than I but, Gods be good, they are smarter than I am and just as tough as our lady mother, Gods bless her."

Catelyn looked up at the Smalljon of House Umber, threw caution to the wind and made a confession to him. "I only agreed to the betrothal between you and Sansa because of another betrothal which is long dead now."

Smalljon did not lash out or yell. He stood there silently for a moment.

"I do not hold anything against you, Lady Stark." Smalljon said before sitting on a nearby bench and looked the older woman face to face. "I will care for Sansa, cherish her and protect her with everything I have in me. She will never starve or shiver in the cold of winter. Can you believe that, Lady Stark?"

Catelyn looked at Smalljon and asked, "Would you convert to the Seven?"

The Smalljon did not need to think hard or long for his answer. "Absolutely not. Would you convert to the Old Gods?"

"Never." Catelyn answered with equal resolve.

"Then at least we know where we stand on that matter of faith. If you want to keep friends who are in the Light of the Seven, House Manderly would be a good choice." Smalljon said before rising back up to his feet. "With your permission, I shall leave you to your prayers and Gods, Lady Stark."

Upon the nod from Lady Stark, Smalljon Umber left the Small Sept.

* * *

Mormont Keep was built of wood and logs cut from the trees that grew on Bear Island. Not a stone or brick comprised the stronghold of House Mormont. Its style was ordinary yet functional.

Pasing through the log gates, on which the identifiable statue of the woman feeding her child while armed with a battle axe stood for all to see, Arya and Bran saw the various young women and men who were trained hard in archery, swordplay and hand to hand battle tactics. Several of them were about the same age as the two visiting Stark children. Others were either the same age as Robb and Jon or they were older than them.

The training came to a halt when Summer and Nymeria entered alongside Bran and Arya. None of them had ever seen a direwolf in their lives and they were immediately on alert until a voice called out, "Stand at attention!"

Alysane, Jorelle, Lyra and Lyanna recognized that voice right away. Sarea and Beron simply waved up and chorused, "Grandmother!"

Arya and Bran watched as a figure emerged from the depths of Mormont Keep, her boots striking the ground sharply with each step.

Black leathers and light chainmail were donned upon her body. Her once long brown hair had begun to turn grey and her face was wrinkled with years of combat and age but her eyes possessed the fiery spirit of the young woman who fought alongside the Blackfish in Robert's Rebellion.

The black bear fur cloak only added to her ferocity and made her look like a true she-bear.

Everyone stood straight at attention without uttering or whispering a word out of respect and reverence to the Lady of Bear Island as she looked over Arya and Bran.

"Dismount your horse and stand before me, Brandon Stark of Winterfell."

Bran did not delay in following Lady Maege Mormont's order. The moment his feet touched the ground, Bran stood straight up at attention. "Open your hands and raise them to me." Maege Mormont ordered.

Not knowing what was about to happen, Bran did as he was instructed. He was frightened when Maege Mormont caught them in her calloused, battle-hardened hands.

"I knew your uncle in life. The Wild Wolf. That's what they called him. He was not a few years older than you are now when I met him. Gods be good, I hope you have more restraint and sense than what was given to your uncle Brandon. If so, you may live to see a ripe old age, unlike him." Maege Mormont said, recalling the time that she first met the eldest son of Lord Rickard Stark. He was impetuous and proud. The Wolf's Blood flowed too deep and too rich in his veins.

Bran had heard the stories of his father's older brother. For a long time, he thought they were tall tales. Now he had the suspicion that they were cautionary tales. Maege snapped Bran out of his mind when she commented, "Your archery leaves much to be desired if I were to go only by the condition of your hands. Within the year, that won't be the case any longer. Jorelle and Lyanna will take you to your quarters. Your wolf will reside alongside you at all times."

"Thank you, Lady Mormont, for welcoming my sister and I into your home." Bran said respectfully to the Lady of Bear Island, who smirked at his manners. "There is no doubt of it. You are Ned Stark's son."

Jorelle took Bran by the hand and led him away as Lyanna and Summer followed them.

Arya was swept away at the level of respect and authority Lady Maege Mormont commanded from an entire army and how formidable she was. It was everything Arya wanted to be and more than she ever dreamed of.

Then she saw Maege Mormont look right at her. The look on her face was indecipherable; it was as though she was recalling a distant memory.

"Dismount your horse and stand before me, Arya Stark of Winterfell."

Arya did as instructed though she was not as swift as her brother. That did not go unnoticed by Maege Mormont, who approached in three swift steps, grabbed Arya by her jaw and stared into her eyes.

"You are rebellious and wild, girl. I see it in you and that bothers me. Your aunt was the same way. She shed her blood walking back to Mormont Keep after thinking she could take a horse from the stables and ride out into the woods at such a great distance. Will I have to do the same with you?"

"No, Lady Mormont." Arya answered in fear of the old woman's grip and the threat looming in the old woman's voice. It was as if a grown bear wrapped a paw around her face.

"Will you follow my orders to the letter without flashing me for a moment a defiant eye?"

"Yes, Lady Mormont. I will." Arya said.

"You and your brother asked for this. Remember that."

Looking towards Lyra and Alysane, Maege delegated to them their orders. "Alysane, see to your children. Lyra, take Arya to her quarters. See that she is prepared to work alongside her brother."

"Yes, mother." Alysane and Lyra said together.

Nymeria growled at Maege until the old woman looked at her. The direwolf instantly bowed its head contritely and whimpered as if in apology. "Go on with your mistress. You both would do well to stay out of trouble."

Lyra took Arya by the hand and led her away. Nymeria raised her head and nodded gruffly before padding away alongside Arya as they were escorted to their quarters.

* * *

Dacey was not allowed to run Robb and Jon to the brink of exhaustion and fatigue every moment of every day.

Like on Bear Island, there was one day set for leisure and rest.

On those days, Dacey Mormont would retreat into the godswood and say a prayer at the base of the heart tree before disrobing completely and soaking herself in the pond nearby that was fed by the hot springs.

The feel of the water against her bare skin was soothing and invigorating as well as deep enough for her to submerge herself.

Though Mormont Keep had gates to serve as defense, Bear Island was never as fortified as Winterfell and the threat of raids always kept her on alert.

For the first time in almost forever, Dacey Mormont was at peace.

A gasp caught her attention as Robb Stark inadvertently walked into the godswood and had his head turned. "Lady Dacey. I just came for prayer. I didn't expect to see you...uhm...in such a way."

Dacey smiled at his youthful innocence and chivalry. It made him look adorable to her but it also sparked a boldness in her.

"Robb, you are almost a man grown. You know that, don't you?" Dacey asked.

"Yes, I am." Robb said, managing to get those three words out of his mouth without stammering.

"I say that because there are certain lessons you must learn. There are things you must be shown. Things that Maester Luwin, Septa Mordane and Rodrik Cassel can not show you."

"What sort of lessons and things do you speak of, Lady Dacey?" Robb asked. His back was turned to her so Robb had no idea that Dacey Mormont had risen from the water and walked toward him in all her splendor until she turned him around.

Robb could feel his heart beating from within his throat as he took in the sight of Dacey Mormont's body.

Dacey took his hands in hers and placed his hands on her hips. "I will show you all kinds of things and teach you in many ways, Robb, if you are prepared and willing to learn from me."

With her body pressed against his, Dacey looked down at Robb and whispered, "Are you prepared and willing, Robb?"

"Yes." The word came out as a whisper but Dacey heard it well enough as she kissed him.

Having found enough nerve in him, Robb embraced Dacey and held her close as they kissed. Because she was a bit taller than he was, Dacey had to lean down and Robb had to lean up. As they kissed, Dacey guided his hands all over her body, silently teaching him how to hold a woman and touch her body properly.

"I love you, Robb Stark." Dacey whispered into his ear.

"I love you too, Dacey Mormont." Robb whispered back.

Dacey smiled as she felt Robb's arousal against her thighs. "All good things in time."

Laying another kiss on Robb's forehead, causing him to get a good look at her teats, Dacey stepped away from Robb and clothed herself. Robb picked up the bear cloak and put it on Dacey's shoulders. The heir to Bear Island wrapped her right hand around his and sighed.

"If I prove myself worthy in your eyes, would you marry me?" Robb asked.

"Perhaps. You and I will have to wait and see what kind of a man you become." Dacey said.

Grey Wind came out from the depths of the godswood and walked alongside his master and Dacey Mormont, panting happily as if he could feel Robb's excitement.

Walking out of the godswood hand in hand, Robb Stark and Dacey Mormont felt at peace with themselves and the world.

A messenger raven would soon shatter that sense of peace.

* * *

At supper, Lord Stark spoke to them about what would happen the next day. "Tomorrow, Robb and Dacey will join Harrion Karstark and the Smalljon along with twenty soldiers loyal to Winterfell as I go to meet with Lord Roose of House Bolton."

Catelyn felt her skin crawl upon hearing Ned say such a thing. "Why does the Lord of the Dreadfort wish to meet with you?"

"A personal grievance involving his own kin, the death of six men sworn to House Bolton and the disappearance or desertion of Ben Bones." Ned sounded like he was about to get into a rough confrontation with Roose Bolton.

Robb was young but even he had reservations against meeting with Roose Bolton. The man was a Northman but was seemingly the antithesis of a Northman in appearance. He was clean shaven while others had stubble or full facial hair.

Dacey Mormont knew enough about Roose Bolton and his lineage to thank the Old Gods that she was a Mormont of Bear Island so that she did not have to see or talk with any of the Boltons. She even kept her distance from the Ryswells and the Dustins for they kept family and blood ties with the house of the Flayed Man. Roose Bolton was more slippery than a wet eel caked in grease and possessed a forked tongue serpents envied. It was completely absurd to Dacey how such a man was counted among Lord Stark's loyal bannermen.

It was a relief to both Robb and Dacey that the Smalljon and Harrion Karstark would be there with them.

Ned looked to Sansa, who was more than concerned for his safety, and addressed her worry by trying to give a measure of good news. "Alora Umber and Alys Karstark will be visiting Winterfell to see you tomorrow, Sansa."

Sleep was fleeting for most of them save for Rickon. He slept peacefully with Shaggydog curled up around him in a protective manner on his bed.


	18. Stark & Bolton

Honor & Fealty chapter 18

* * *

Lord Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort was never content with his lot among the other Northern houses, whom he perceived as subservient fools.

Umber, Mormont, Karstark, Flint, Reed, Tallhart, Glover, Hornwood, Cerwyn, even all the northern mountain clans chose to stand with House Stark faithfully and willingly.

The Manderlys easily pledged their fealty to House Stark. In Bolton's reasoning, it was easy to gain the fealty from a family that had nothing.

There were many adjectives Northerners had for him. A few of the most frequently used among the more eloquent and polite of them were covetous, knavish and reticent.

He was all those things and more whenever he looked to Winterfell, the ancestral seat of House Stark where Lord Eddard lived with his lady wife and their five children. Ned Stark even allowed his bastard son to live with him and interact with his highborn heirs and heiresses as though he were a Stark in all but name.

In spite of this 'folly', the Lord of Winterfell and head of House Stark retained the respect, admiration, love and devotion of every house in the North.

Meanwhile, the Lord of the Dreadfort and head of House Bolton retained the suspicion, ridicule and hostility from every house between the Wall and the Neck.

The meeting place for Lords Stark and Bolton was set in an area not far from the Dreadfort and in full sight from Winterfell. Their discussions would be out in the open and in the light of day.

Because of the wide open spaces, there was no advantage for ambushes or sneak attacks.

Even if there was any advantage for either, Roose Bolton was well aware of the consequences. Raising a hand against the Lord of Winterfell would result in every other house in the North rising up against the Dreadfort, extinguishing House Bolton from the realm completely.

Lady Barbrey Dustin stood by him in a display of House Ryswell and House Dustin's collective solidarity with House Bolton and her personal animosity with Lord Eddard Stark. In her mind, she believed that the ever noble Warden of the North left William Dustin to rot on the Red Mountains when he and Howland Reed stormed the Tower of Joy to rescue the Wolf Maiden of Winterfell.

Upon seeing Lord Stark arrive, it was not lost upon them how many soldiers from Winterfell, Last Hearth and Karhold were gathered with him. Though Lord Bolton only acknowledged the presence of Lord Eddard Stark and his eldest boy, Robb, it was only Lady Barbrey who noticed Harrion Karstark, Dacey Mormont and Smalljon Umber surrounding the heir to Winterfell. In her mind, it was as though Ned Stark was displaying how he could rally the North to him with the slightest of efforts.

Ned Stark and Roose Bolton looked at each other for a moment before addressing each other.

"Lord Bolton."

"Lord Stark."

To Lady Barbrey's surprise and ire, which were both more evident from her than Lord Roose Bolton, Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch arrived with columns of soldiers from Houses Flint and Manderly along with Ser Wendel Manderly and Robin Flint at the forefront of each column and at his sides.

"Lord Stark. Lord Bolton, Lady Dustin. I hope I did not keep you all waiting." Howland Reed spoke firmly, his voice never betraying what he felt about the two standing on the eastern bank of the White Knife. Howland Reed, Robin Flint and Ser Wendel Manderly nodded to the heirs of Winterfell, Bear Island, Last Hearth and Karhold, acknowledging their presence out of respect.

"We had just arrived, Lord Reed. Your timing is such that we did not have to wait." Lord Stark remarked.

"Lord Reed, I do not recall summoning you to this meeting." Bolton spoke up.

"I do not recall giving a damn about what you think, Bolton. Lord Stark called me to this meeting. Houses Manderly and Flint sought to come along with me as company. I do get lonely when I'm far from home."

Roose Bolton never cared for niceties or small talk. "There are grievances I must lay at your feet, Lord Stark, in regards to my household and the heir to the Dreadfort." Roose Bolton began, his voice only raised enough that he could be heard.

"What sort of grievances trouble you, Lord Bolton?" Lord Stark inquired.

"Seven persons in service to the Dreadfort abandoned their posts some time ago and have yet to return. There has been no notice of where they have gone or what their intent was. Naturally, I am concerned when the people under my care disappear without rhyme or reason."

"I have not come across any wayward servants of yours, nor has anyone in service to Winterfell." Eddard Stark answered directly.

"Then perhaps I am asking the wrong person." Roose Bolton spoke before turning his glare at Howland Reed. "Howland Reed, have you or any of your crannogmen seen any of those servants I am inquiring about?"

"Yes, Lord Bolton. I have. Those servants you speak of were found trespassing in Moat Cailin. Their intent, as you so eloquently put it, was ill at best though they were tight lipped about the matter." Howland Reed said before Robin Flint dismounted his horse with a large sack in hand.

Harrion, Dacey, Robb and the Smalljon watched as Robin Flint emptied the sack at Roose Bolton's feet. Six heads with flies and maggots emerging from the orifices, ears and eye sockets.

"The heads were all we could recover. The creatures of the Neck devoured the rest."

Roose Bolton stared hard at Howland Reed before turning to Eddard Stark. "Lord Stark, this can not be tolerated for one moment. I demand that Howland Reed pay restitutions to my house for this atrocity." Roose Bolton complained only to have Howland Reed interject himself.

"Coming from you, it is almost laughable, Lord Bolton, that you would call this an atrocity. As well, if you bothered to count, you would note that there are only six heads at your feet. Your now former kennel master, Ben Bones, is in the custody of House Manderly when he was found in White Harbor trying to sneak back to the Dreadfort instead of boarding a ship bound for Essos." Ser Wendel said firmly.

Ned Stark had his 'lord face' on and even Roose Bolton had to see the severity of the situation for what it was.

"Lord Bolton, what have you to say on your behalf?"

Having been fed up with the silent accusations and the heads being thrown at Roose Bolton's feet, Barbrey Dustin spoke up. "Lord Stark, he had no knowledge of what happened and I find it disrespectful that you would so easily cast such charges against the Lord of the Dreadfort, who fought alongside you in the Rebellion as my husband did all those years ago. Furthermore, Lord Howland Reed has lost whatever good sense he had when he cast the heads of dead servants at our feet."

"You have played that flute for many winters, Lady Barbrey. Wherever William Dustin is, I imagine he's as fed up with it as I am. As for these delinquents, I doubt you care any more for the former owners of these severed heads then I do." Howland Reed said as he stared down Lady Barbrey.

"Lord Stark, I did not orchestrate or order any misdeed or transgression to be committed against either House Reed or anyone else." Roose Bolton answered before Lady Barbrey could try to retort against Lord Howland Reed.

"My lords, my brother and I were there when the seven servants of the Dreadfort were detained in Moat Cailin. None of them possessed the wit among them to do anything unless someone gave them the order first." Ser Wendel said.

Harrion, Dacey and the Smalljon had a clue as to what was implied but Robb had no idea until Dacey leaned in and whispered her suspicion in Robb's ear. The Bolton family tree was not extensive at all. Lord Roose Bolton had only one highborn son and one bastard son.

It was Lord Eddard Stark who voiced the suspicion. "Where is your bastard son, Lord Bolton?"

"He has long since been banished from the Dreadfort though I have been told along the way that he continues to refer to himself as my rightful heir. The very concept of a lord raising his bastard in the same roof as his highborn children is rather unheard of." Lord Bolton said as if to subtly antagonize Lord Stark. "However, in answer to your question, Lord Stark, I do not know where Ramsey Snow is, which brings me to my second grievance."

"What might that be?" Lord Stark asked.

"My son, Domeric, was meant to return to me a year ago. Instead of coming home, he chose to remain in the Vale for another year. It is unusual for my son to disregard my orders. He is usually very obedient. I am led to believe that someone sparked a rebellious fire in him. I had sent ravens to all the great houses in the North save for Winterfell. I wanted to give the message to you myself, Lord Stark. If you or they come across my son, living or otherwise, I wish to have him returned to the Dreadfort straight away."

"Lord Bolton, I do not know where your son is nor do I have him in my custody." Lord Stark answered before looking to Ser Wendel Manderly, Robin Flint and Lord Howland Reed.

Howland Reed spoke first. "He crossed the Neck only after the lizard lions finished supping on your servants and your mongrels. In the event you are wondering, your son is not harmed in any way."

Robin Flint added for good measure. "Your hounds, the ones trained to kill wolves and do not dare try to deny it, Lord Bolton, they died a better death than the six who lost their heads among other things."

Ser Wendel spoke up. "They left White Harbor long ago and have found refuge with House Karstark. I believe you would have received a raven by now at the Dreadfort explaining this."

The concept that there was more than one person caught his attention. "Who else is with my son, Ser Wendel?"

"Friends. To be honest, a Bolton with friends is quite uncommon. It is akin to an honest Lannister with generosity in his heart for the smallfolk or a sober Baratheon with a dry wine chalice."

"Do you think this a laughing matter, Ser Wendel Manderly?" Bolton scorned only to receive a smile hidden underneath Ser Wendel's beard and mustache. "No, Lord Bolton. As you can see, I have not uttered so much as a chuckle at your expense. I believe that privilege should be reserved for your son if the two of you speak together again."

Roose Bolton turned on his heel and walked away. Lady Barbrey looked at Howland Reed with the same contempt she harbored for Eddard Stark. "How is it that you and Lord Stark were the only ones to return from the Tower of Joy?"

"My lady, many people died in that Rebellion. Many of them were deserving of death while others were deserving of a long and happy life. Go home and be content with what family you have left."

"The North remembers, Lord Reed, as do I." Lady Barbrey said before walking away after Lord Bolton.


	19. Looking Back & Looking Ahead

Honor & Fealty chapter 19

* * *

Upon their arrival at Karhold, Willas taught him, Mya Stone and Samwell Tarly how to plant seed in the earth and grow crops while the hounds, hawks, horses and mules were tended to by the stable hands and kennel master.

Being highborn heirs with less than desirable fathers, Willas Tyrell and Domeric Bolton had common ground to stand on. In their conversations, Willas shared with Domeric his vision for what he wanted to do while in the North. Domeric had to respect the Reachman for his desire to break away from the shadow of his father and prove himself as his own man.

"My father presents himself as benevolent but he is dull on his best days. He never possessed the mind for politics like my grandmother. He never inherited her patience and strategy."

"Did you leave by your own choice or did your father cast you out for embracing the Old Gods?" Domeric asked. It was not every day when a Southron chose to convert to the faith held by the Northmen, the Free Folk and the crannogmen.

"The games they played between each other and the rest of the Reach began to wear on me. Along with that, being the heir to Highgarden began to lose its meaning and value when I came to realize how little influence or involvement I had in political discourse in spite of the training and studies meant to prepare me for it."

"And here you are, attempting to grow crops in the North. Did you ever consider how difficult it would be?"

"I never expected it to be easy. Nothing worth having was ever easy. My leg being the way it is did not help me in any respect. What I do know is, if given the choice, I will embrace my death with open arms rather than limp back to my father with my tail between my legs."

Domeric saw this as well though he did not feel pity for Willas Tyrell's plight. What he felt was a call to serve; a concept his father never possessed in himself or held in high regard.

"A word to the wise. You should probably not tempt fate in such a way." Domeric said.

"I'll keep that in mind." Willas said as they continued their work.

* * *

"Take aim at the target in front of you. Take a breath. Hold. Release it. Take another one. Hold. Loose."

Bran sent the arrow flying. In the split second it took for the arrow to clear the bow, Bran had reached to the quill, grabbed another arrow and knocked it into place, drawing back the string until it was between his neck and shoulder.

There were four targets in total. One was at 10 feet away. The second one was at 15 feet away. The third was at 20 feet away. The final one was up in a tree at 30 feet.

Bran was able to get the first, second and third but fell short on the fourth, which Jorelle struck down with an arrow landing on the bullseye.

"You're improving, Bran. Keep practicing and you will get better." Jorelle said. As Bran collected the arrows, Summer ran towards them panting after a hunt in the woods. He brought with him one of the hares he did not devour right away for both his master and his tutor.

"Your wolf is generous with his gains." Jorelle said as she patted Summer on his head. "Now I will teach you how to prepare a hare for lunch."

It took a while for Bran to not get squeamish about skinning a dead hare but with Jorelle teaching him, he only suffered a momentary pale complexion. "Don't worry. He's long dead. Nothing else can be done to him." Jorelle said before shoving the spit right up the hare's backside until it came out from the back of its neck. Jorelle cut it's belly open and all its insides fell right out.

While the hare cooked over a fire, Jorelle brought up the topic that was whispered to Bran by Lyra and Lyanna. "I do not despise Jojen for having affections towards me. I just know that I would kill him if he failed in his attempt to win my hand in marriage."

"Do you have to kill him, Lady Jorelle, because he's not a warrior like you are?" Bran asked.

"I was told by the elder handmaidens who served in Winterfell long before my birth that my uncle Brandon was wild, courageous and strong. Your mother called him the Wild Wolf. He was meant to marry my mother. He was murdered by the Mad King before that could happen. My father, he never boasted of his ability. He was reserved and stoic but he cared for his countrymen and his family. Lord Eddard Stark is not the warrior heir his brother was and yet you and your house still honor him. Jojen may not be able to prove himself in battle but is that all there is?"

"Brandon Stark, there are times when I wish I could believe there was more to life than fighting to the last breath. When you have fought for so long that there doesn't seem to be anything else." Jorelle said before looking over to a clearing several feet from them, a smile crossing her face as she recalled a memory from not long ago.

"Did you know that my mother once got into a fight with the Leech Lord?"

Bran never saw that coming. "Why would Lord Bolton get into a fight with your mother?" Bran asked.

"Roose Bolton came to Bear Island some years ago. His son, Domeric, he was trained for tourneys. Dacey was trained for combat. By the time Domeric showed up, Dacey was already battle tested and equally battle hardened. Roose Bolton thought a union between his house and one of the more trusted ones to House Stark would improve his standing in the North. Instead, he watched as Dacey beat Domeric brutally. Then the unthinkable happened. Roose Bolton intervened before Dacey could take Domeric's head, thus cutting the Bolton line forever."

"Lord Bolton interfered?" Bran asked.

"He tried to kill Dacey, which my mother did not tolerate for one moment. She buried both fists into the Leech Lord and sent him back to the Dreadfort with a shattered ego, wounded pride, a limp in his leg, bruises from head to toe, sores in places no man wants to feel them and knowing that his son bore witness to it all. Since that day, House Bolton has never been welcomed on Bear Island. We are not welcome at the Dreadfort either, which turned out to be a blessing since none of us have ever wanted to go there." Jorelle said as she checked the hare.

"Domeric and Dacey did not become friends after that. Our house remained ever faithful to yours while his house remained ambitious."

"Is ambition such a bad thing?" Bran asked.

"When it consumes everything you knew and makes you forget what morals you have, yes. House Bolton embodies that concept, which is the least grotesque of what they are known for."

As they ate in peace with Summer at his side, Bran noticed the sun setting in the distance. "We should perhaps start riding back to Mormont Keep before nightfall."

* * *

Arya felt the cold winds blow through her hair, biting at her knuckles as she held the spear horizontally in front of her in an attempt to stay balanced.

Lyra took the fur cloak from Arya's back before having her climb up to what she lovingly called The Pine Line. A tightly strung rope between two tall soldier pine trees served for both discipline and training.

The smell of pine would never be for Arya as it was for most others. It would only remind her of how far up she was and how far down she could fall with one wrong step.

Nymeria was circling the trees in worry for her mistress as she walked gingerly across the tightrope suspended high above the ground.

Each step felt like a thousand as she walked from one tree to the other. When she was close enough, Arya leapt towards the tree, praying to the Old Gods that she could clear the distance and grab onto the tree trunk. She had her face turned to the side upon impact. Instead of getting a broken nose, she only has a sore cheek and a slight bump over her right eye. Her spear fell down to the ground below.

Upon landing back on solid ground, Arya found herself staring at Lyra, who held the spear that fell moments ago. "Tomorrow, you are going to do it again."

"Why?"

"You lost your weapon. If I were a Wildling or an Ironborn raider, you would have been killed or taken as a salt wife. Neither of those sound like fun, do they?"

Arya shook her head. "That is why you are doing that again tomorrow."

"Did your mother do the same thing to you?" Arya asked.

"Me, Alysane, Dacey, Jorelle. Lyanna has walked the Pine Line She had more balance than us but she still falters in keeping her weapon in hand when she's up there." Lyra said as she demonstrated her skill and agility with the spear. "It was not easy for any of us. I lost count of how many times I fell from up there or lost my weapon. Bran tried it himself not so long ago."

"How did he fare?" Arya asked.

"To my surprise, better than the both of us and my sisters. He crossed from one end to the other with great ease." Lyra said, recalling how she had to climb up to the top and get Bran down from the trees. He was having too much fun climbing and walking the tightrope only compounded his excitement.

"What are we going to do next?" Arya asked.

"You and I are going for a swim."

Arya's eyes went wide as she thought of how freezing cold the Bay of Ice would be even when winter had not come yet. Lyra saw this on the young girl's face and smiled. "The waterfall here has a lake deep enough for us to swim in and it's less cold than the Bay of Ice."

Lyra led Arya and Nymeria to the lake, which was fed by a cascading waterfall.

"I only have one set of smallclothes on. What else can I use for swimming?" Arya said.

Lyra laughed. "Smallclothes? Arya, they may help your modesty but they can weigh you down when you get in the water."

Arya's jaw dropped as Lyra shed every stitch of clothing from her body, which was now completely displayed before the young wolf pup. Arya turned away as if not to stare until a pair of hands forcibly turned her around and she was staring straight at Lyra's teats.

"Get used to seeing a woman's body, Arya Stark. Whether you like it or not, you will grow into a woman. This is a glimpse of what you will look like." Lyra said before diving into the lake. Nymeria dove right in without a second thought.

After a while of watching Lyra and Nymeria swim around, Arya disrobed completely and dove into the water.

Then Arya remembered something.

Whatever skills she had, swimming was not one of them. She never swam at Winterfell or even in Riverrun on the rare times she went there with her siblings and mother.

Lyra saw this and quickly swam up to Arya and took the young girl in her arms to keep her head above water. "I should have asked if you could swim."

Arya sputtered and gasped for air in an attempt to steady her heart. Nymeria dog paddled over to her mistress and gave a lick on the cheek.

"Before you leave Bear Island, you'll swim with the best of them, Arya." Lyra said as she taught Arya how to swim.

It took Arya several tries but after a few, she started to get her stride and started to swim.

When they got dressed again and headed back to Mormont Keep, Arya asked Lyra a very personal question.

"Do you love Jon?"

Up until that point, Lyra did not think Arya could take her by surprise. "I do love him, Arya."

"My mother will think of sending him away if she hasn't already. The next time you see him, talk him into marrying you."

Lyra did not expect to hear such a thing come from the little wolf pup. "Arya? How would that help?"

"My mother has never shown any care for him and I'm afraid that she will send him to the Wall."

Lyra felt her heart clench and her stomach turn as she thought of that. "I will not let that happen." She spoke firmly.

"If you marry Jon, he won't have to go to the Wall."

"Marriage should not be more than a road block but I also do not want to see Jon bind himself to the Wall because of your mother." Lyra said as worry began to enter her mind.

* * *

Upon arriving back at Mormont Keep after having trained in skinchanging, Bran approached Lyra and whispered to her, "Go out into the Bay of Ice tomorrow before midday on a longboat when you go swimming."

"Did you talk to Arya?" Lyra asked.

Bran shook his head. "Jon will ride out to Sea Dragon Point and swim out to find you. Be there to receive him."

"How do you know this, Bran?" Lyra asked.

"I do not know." Bran said. "I was bonding with Summer and I saw Jon riding through the Wolfswood, past Deepwood Motte and towards the Bay of Ice with Ghost at his side."

Lyra looked at him for a moment before coming to a realization. Such a capability would only be manifest in someone who was either directly connected to the Old Gods or someone with the fabled gift of greensight. Leaning in, Lyra whispered into his ear, "What else did you see?"

"Lyra, it is late." Alysane said, interrupting the conversation before Bran could say anything. Lyra looked Bran in the face to see if he knew what she was asking about.

Bran's face was expressionless and betrayed no thought or emotion.

Sleep was fleeting for Lyra but she was already preparing herself for the day to come.

* * *

A/n: I have made it a point to not make this too rushed or too long winded.


	20. Histories Past & Yet To Come

Honor & Fealty chapter 20

* * *

While Lord and Lady Stark spoke privately with Ser Brynden Tully, four heirs stood in pairs and across from each other outside Lord Stark's solar, sizing each other up.

While Robb welcomed Willas Tyrell and Domeric Bolton with courtesy, Dacey eyed Domeric with a cold glare and the crippled Reachman with a suspicious glance. Dacey really did not think much of him until he mentioned turning away from the Faith of the Seven to embrace the Old Gods kept by her and the Northmen. No sooner than when she heard that, Dacey Mormont's curiosity and suspicion were both peaked.

Willas Tyrell did not strike her as a threat. As for Domeric Bolton, all she could see was a faceless Red King of the Dreadfort standing before her.

As far as Dacey Mormont was concerned, House Bolton would forever be the bane of the North.

Domeric Bolton had not forgotten how close to death he had been when he crossed swords with Lady Maege Mormont's eldest daughter. As appealing to the eye as she was, Dacey Mormont was not by any means a friend of his.

Willas and Robb seemed to sense the not so friendly way Dacey Mormont and Domeric Bolton looked at each other long before either of them had spoken one word to each other.

"I did not expect to see you in Winterfell, Lady Dacey." Domeric spoke as he looked over the heir to Bear Island.

"I was not counting on seeing you in Winterfell either, Domeric Bolton."

"Contrary to what you may believe, Lady Dacey, I am not my father. I never was."

"And yet you remain a Bolton and a descendant of the Red Kings who opposed House Stark."

"If my family name was Umber, Karstark, Flint, Hornwood, Glover or Tallhart, you would not hold me in such contempt."

"If you bore any of those names, I would grieve for those houses on the thought of them having you in their lineage."

Robb spoke up in an attempt to keep the peace. "Dacey Mormont. Domeric Bolton. You may not like each other and the both of you may seem worlds apart but there is one thing you both have in common. Your houses are sworn to mine. The both of you are guests in the stronghold of my ancestors. Do either of you recognize and honor the guest right?"

"Yes, always, Robb." Dacey said firmly to his face.

Domeric nodded while noticing how Dacey was on a first name basis with the heir to Winterfell. "I too honor the guest right, Robb Stark, with the same reverence possessed by Lady Dacey Mormont. In spite of her rigid beliefs of me and my family, the Boltons of the Dreadfort are known to honor the guest right whenever we are graced with visiting company. Under different circumstances, I would have happily invited Lady Dacey and her sisters for a holiday at the Dreadfort."

Dacey looked at Domeric with a hard glare. "Bolton, my sisters and I are in no hurry to ask for refuge in the house of the Flayed Man. I would sooner take refuge with Lord Reed and the crannogmen of the Neck. The lizard lions are of better cheer and are more well spoken."

"Lady Dacey." Robb warned.

Dacey instantly held her tongue behind her teeth and dug deep to find some measure of civility.

"In consideration to Robb Stark, we are in Winterfell, not the Dreadfort or Bear Island. My family and I know better than to bring strife into another's home, most of all the sacred home of their liege lord and Warden of the North."

"Lady Dacey, whether you belive me or not, I do not seek to bring trouble to Winterfell. Despite my family's uprisings against House Stark, there were notable times when the direwolf and the flayed man fought side by side. Our families fought together alongside each other during Robert's Rebellion. Your mother never thought to loose an arrow anywhere in my father's general direction. When Lord Stark called upon his bannermen to fight House Greyjoy, my father never once shirked or ignored the call to arms. My father never raised a hand or any weapon against your mother."

At that moment, Ser Brynden Tully emerged from Lord Stark's solar. He did not need anyone to explain what was going on. He could tell there was hostility between at least two of the four heirs standing before him.

"Mormont and Bolton, until the both of you can learn to get along, I may have to ask that both of you keep your distance from each other. That means hands off the bows and arrows if you both are on the training grounds. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Ser Tully." Dacey and Domeric chorused.

"Now that no one is going to try and kill anyone, Lord and Lady Stark wish to speak with you and Willas Tyrell privately." Brynden Tully said to Domeric directly.

After Willas Tyrell and Domeric Bolton entered the solar, Robb turned to Dacey and spoke firmly with a resolve and maturity he didn't think he possessed. "Until the Boltons or the Tyrells decide to directly attack us, do not greet them in the same way you would greet the Free Folk or the Ironborn."

Dacey bowed her head contritely. "I do not trust them."

"Dacey, I understand completely why you would be hesitant to share company with them but neither Willas Tyrell or Domeric Bolton have come with ill intent. You need to learn some sort of diplomacy. Not everyone who approaches you seeks to do you harm."

"I have not had the luxury of trusting people easily, especially when they are Southrons and outsiders." Dacey retorted.

"Come with me to the godswood. Perhaps time in prayer and reflection will grant you some peace of mind."

"That sounds good." Dacey said, admiring how Robb was beginning to talk like a grown man. "Would you and Grey Wind care to join me?"

"Of course, Lady Dacey. I belive that would be ideal." Robb replied as Grey Wind gave a growl in agreement.

On their way to the courtyards, Robb and Dacey thought the hostilities were behind them.

Then they walked in on a heated discussion between Jon and the Vale-born bastard girl. Dacey and Robb arrived in time to hear Mya tell Jon, "Don't let your origin dictate to you what you're worth or what you deserve. Tomorrow morning, if the chance presents itself, ride out to the Bay of Ice and see if you can overcome yourself. If you don't have the guts to do that, I will kick you so hard in your nuts that you won't have to worry about fathering children."

"What are you all discussing that involves bodily harm to my brother, Mya Stone?"

Theon and Jon were more than flabbergasted at Mya's declaration and challenge but then they were starting to get up and walk away from Mya when they heard Dacey Mormont's voice. The heir to Bear Island looked like she was about to rip the blue-eyed woman in half. It was only Robb's hand on her arm that restrained Dacey.

"I beg pardon, Lord Robb. I did not mean to bring any strife into your home but I had to say my peace regarding a personal matter."

Jon, having already consumed several cups of wine, openly asked in a untactful way, "What do you know about bedding someone of a higher station than you? You are just as much a bastard as I am."

Mya's eyes grew hardened with fury. "More than you know, Snow."

Turning her attention to Robb and Dacey, Mya took a deep breath to calm herself. "May I be excused, Lord Robb? I would like to tend to my mules. They are less stubborn than certain others I can think of right now."

"You may." Robb said.

While Mya stormed away toward the stables of Winterfell, Jon Snow and Ghost retreated to the godswood.

* * *

When he returned to King's Landing, Ser Jaime Lannister entered Maegor's Holdfast and made his way to the royal bed chambers. As he made his way inside, Jaime was met by his twin sister who had her back to him as she sat before her looking glass, a chalice of Arbor Gold resting at her side as tended to herself. The robe she wore wrapped tight around a body he fantasized about in the light of day and the dark of night. In the reflection of the looking glass, Jaime could see that the front of the robe was opened just enough to display enough cleavage with which to catch his attention.

Queen Cersei Lannister never took the Baratheon name upon her marriage to King Robert. Though she married a stag, Cersei remained a lioness as she laid claim to everything she ever wanted in life. Wealth, beauty, power and a family. All these things she was able to call her own and she did not bat an eye over enjoying every bit of it.

Yet the smile on her face never reached her eyes, which bore no light in them.

She had it all and yet there was no true contentment.

Except for whenever she saw her twin brother.

"How was the weekly journey to the Stormlands?" Cersei asked flippantly as Ser Jaime poured hismelf a glass of wine.

"It was the same as the previous ones, only this time, King Robert had a scribe take down a degree for a marriage betrothal."

Cersei did not expect that. "A marriage betrothal? For who?" She asked as she turned her head over her shoulder to look at Jaime.

Ser Jaime laughed at her suspicion. "Whatever else King Robert may be, he's not into having a gaggle of wives like Lord Walder Frey of the Crossing. The betrothal is between Lady Margaery of House Tyrell and his brother, Lord Renly of House Baratheon."

Seeing the look on Cersei's face, Jaime added, "Even if he had interest in her, she is still the daughter of Lord Mace Tyrell. I imagine he'd sooner take a long walk into Blackwater Bay rather than to call that man his father by law." There was another reason why Jaime Lannister found the marriage betrothal between Renly and Margaery to be more comical than anything else. Rather than to reveal it to Cersei or even their younger brother, Tyrion, he chose to keep it to himself as a private joke.

"Apart from wedding the Rose Cunt of the Reach to his youngest brother, what else has he been up to behind the walls of Storm's End?" Cersei asked. She was expecting to hear tales of King Robert's whoring, hunting and drinking. What she heard next was not what she expected.

"He spent much of his time in the library of Storm's End."

"Why would he be there?" Cersei asked as she rose from her seat and approached Jaime, her robe started to open more, revealing her lithe legs for moments at a time before vanishing behind the silk fabrics of the robe.

"I imagine it is to read books. Libraries are full of them and completely void of prostitutes. I was surprised to find him with his nose in a book rather than between a woman's teats." Ser Jaime said as he drank from his wine glass.

"What is he reading about?" Cersei asked. By this time, she was only 5 feet away from Jaime.

"He was reading up on the history of Storm's End, Aegon's Landing and the Field of Fire."

Cersei's concern melted away and was quickly replaced by annoyance. "The past should be left there and relegated to distant memory. I care more about what is in front of me in the here and now."

"As do I, sweet sister." Jaime Lannister quipped as she shed her robe and he took her to bed.

* * *

The further he got from Mya Stone and the closer he got to the heart tree, the more Jon Snow felt his inebriation wane to where he got a hold of his senses and remembered every word that fell out of his mouth. _Why did I say that? Where did I get off insulting a guest of Winterfell?_

The question was rhetorical. He knew full well why he said it. He was a bastard and those are not well known for fathering children or taking wives for that matter. No maiden ever lept for joy when she was to tell her parents that she would happily wed a bastard with nothing to his name except disgrace.

Sitting down at the base of the heart tree, Jon thought of Lyra swimming out in the Bay of Ice, waiting and wondering if he was ever going to swim out to her.

Then he thought of what she said to him that night when she paid him back for the pleasures he gave her in the bell tower of Winterfell. It should have given him some comfort but it only reminded him of his bastardy.

Ghost was at his side every step of the way and the fact that he never made any sounds unless necessary was a comfort to him. His albino direwolf never judged him or criticized him and yet those red eyes that looked at him seemed to say more than anyone else.

Upon Ghost turning his head, Jon looked in the same direction and found himself staring at Dacey Mormont, who looked at him firmly but without judgment. "I never drank that pisswater the Southrons call summerwine because it dulls the senses faster than beer and it makes you sound like an ass." Dacey spoke as she approached Jon with long strides until she had his back against the heart tree.

"Lady Dacey, I..." Jon started only to have Dacey put her hand over his mouth.

"Do not lie to me, Jon. Especially here in the godswood. The Old Gods will know if you do." Dacey warned. "My sister, Lyra, has had several lovers from the age of 13 to 16. You know that, don't you?"

Jon nodded. "Twenty in all." He said with a gruff.

"They were not bastards and yet were not better than you by any stretch of the imagination. No one expected anything from them and they were not called on to inherit lands or titles. Do you think Lyra gave her maiden's head to any of those boys?"

"I do not know and I do not have it in me to guess." Jon answered.

"I know."

Those three words were enough to catch Jon's heart in his throat. "Half of those lovers died from either Ironborn raids, trespassing Wildlings or from sickness. Five took the black after realizing they had no chance in besting Lyra in battle. The other five..."

"What happened to them?" Jon asked, silently cursing his curiosity.

"Lyra killed them." Dacey replied. "But ultimately, though she had twenty lovers in her life, none of them ever laid down with her." Backing away by a few steps, Dacey took Jon's hand and sat him down. "Do you love Lyra?"

Jon nodded. "Yes, I do, but I..."

"I only asked if you love her. I already know she loves you. Lyra mentioned to me about the challenge she gave you. You are a good boy and modesty does help to keep your pride in check but you seem to have a bit too much for your own sake. I will not tell you what you ought to do. If I did, you would be tugging at my side for the rest of your life when it came to making decisions. Whatever happens between you and Lyra will be based on the decision you make for yourself, Jon."

Dacey reached over to Ghost and petted him tenderly. "You ought to take Ghost with you. Who knows? You might end up going to Bear Island. Arya and Bran probably miss you as much as Nymeria and Summer miss Ghost." It was not until she said it that Dacey heard Lady Catelyn's words echoing in her mind from long ago about sending Jon to Bear Island or to the Wall in order to keep him separated from Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon.

Getting up to her feet, Dacey was about to walk away when Jon spoke, "Do you love my brother?"

If she was going to have Jon be completely open with her, Dacey Mormont could not refuse him the same level of honesty. Dacey turned her head and looked Jon face to face. "Yes, I love Robb very much."

"I think you are best for him. It will keep him from doing foolish things."

"Fools are very ingenious for what they can do, Jon, but I will do what I can." Dacey said.

"If it will bind my senses to me and give you some peace of mind, I will swear off summerwine the rest of my days."

Dacey smiled and wrapped an arm around Jon and pulled him close to her. "That sounds good and well but whether you live up to that promise, only time will tell."

* * *

Hodor was well accustomed to being overlooked. In truth, he never really sought any distinct notice. What mattered to him was to serve House Stark. Old Nan taught him that from long ago when he was the size and age of little Rickon Stark.

That was many, many years ago. Now he was a man full grown at well over seven feet in height with great strength but his mind had long ago rendered him only able to say one word.

A word people would refer to him as.

Hodor.

In spite of his lack of speech, there were more that loved him than anything else. In Winterfell, he found a home and that was worth more than all the gold in Westeros.

He was tending to the mules brought in by the four strangers when he heard footsteps. In moments, the girl dressed in masculine clothes appeared. She seemed upset but then smiled at him. "Hello, Hodor. I thought no one was around. Could I join you in tending to them?"

Hodor nodded and hurried off . Within moments, he returned with a sack of grains over his shoulder, a brush tucked in his belt and a bucket of water in hand.

Mya was impressed at Hodor's promptness and started brushing the manes of her mules.

For reasons she would never be able to really understand, Mya opened her thoughts to the tall stable boy. "Are there mountains in the North, Hodor?"

Hodor nodded.

"I was born in the Vale. Mountains as far as the eye can see and rocky terrain in between. I can not recall what my mother looked like but I remember a big, strong man tossing me up in the air and catching me with his big hands. Some people say bastards are not really given any name if no one knows who their parents are. I was born with the name Stone. Clearly, everyone knows who my father is."

Hodor listened as she went on. "I should have been happy to live in the Vale with the freedom to come and go as I please. I get to wear what I like, speak how I wish and no one was there to tell me otherwise. I should be happy and I'm not."

"Hodor (Why are you sad?)." Hodor spoke.

Mya grinned. For a moment, she thought it was a touch of madness for her to talk with someone incapable of talking back. However, it did not stop her from talking as she fed the mules.

"There was someone I loved in the Vale. I still love him though there is no future for me and him. Mychel was his name. He took me to bed or I took him to bed. The more I think of it, I can not tell for certain which happened. What I do know is that, for a time, I thought I was with child. Families in the Vale are not too kind to bastards who lay with their highborn sons. So I left out of fear for myself and the child I thought was growing inside me. It wasn't until I was in the Riverlands when I found out that I was not in the family way. I have not gone back. I can not tell him that there was no child without his family and House Royce finding out. It's cold comfort to know that I at least walked out on my own terms rather than being cast out into the waiting arms of some mountain clansman."

Hodor noticed how she had her face turned away as she spoke. Setting the bucket down, Mya wrapped her arms around her mule's neck and buried her face in the black mane. Walking over, Hodor put a hand on her shoulder gently as if to show that he cared.

The sound of the mules naying in alarm broke the moment. Mya and Hodor turned to the source of their fear and there was Grey Wind alongside Robb Stark.

"Hodor, help Lady Mya calm her mules. Then you may continue with your daily chores."

Hodor nodded and followed Robb's orders to the letter. Once the mules were docile again, Hodor bowed his head to Robb before leaving to continue his daily chores elsewhere.

Mya looked at Robb and asked, "How much did you hear?"

"This is not King's Landing. My father would never approve of gossip from either his household, soldiers or family. You have nothing to fear from us." Robb said. "Does Mychel have a family name?"

"Redfort."

The name did not seem to reverberate in Robb's memory so he did not have any opinion on the matter. "The talk, if you could call it that, you had with my brother and Theon, it touched a nerve. Were you planning to follow up on your word in regards to physically assaulting Jon?"

"I spoke out of anger. That was uncalled for and I apologize." Mya said contritely before noticing that Robb referred to Jon as his brother in spite of the bastard name Snow.

"You call him your brother though he was the offspring of a woman who was not your lady mother. I do not think I have seen or heard anything like that until here and now."

"Jon grew up here in Winterfell along with the rest of us. I can not say it was always easy for him. My mother only saw him as the blight on her honor and a sign that my father loved another woman more than her."

"Speaking of women loved by Starks, how long have you and Lady Mormont loved each other?"

"The Mormonts and the Starks are close. I have known her since I was an infant. Dacey Mormont was a girl of seven years at the time." Looking Mya over, Robb could not help but see something of Arya in Mya.

"When it's time for dinner, it would do well to talk with Jon and make peace with him."

Mya nodded.

As Robb was about to leave, Mya asked, "If I were to ask your lord father for leave to see the mountains near the Bay of Ice, would he allow you and your brother to join me?"

"You would need to ask him first. If he allows it, we'll go together."

* * *

King Robert, in one of those rare times when he was not whoring and drinking, held a quill in hand as he wrote upon a parchment. Apart from himself, there was only one other person watching him.

Ser Barristan Selmy, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard patiently stood there in a chamber void of windows and corners. It was a place ventured to by few if anyone.

Not even Varys could sneak up on them.

For the most part, few words if any were shared between them but Semly heard King Robert mumble on about 'bloody Targaryens' and 'misbegotten scum'.

Ser Barristan knew his duties. Nowhere among them did they say he had to peer over his King's shoulder to see what he was writing or listening to the rantings of a king too stuck in the past to move forward.

Upon placing the seal of the crowned stag of Baratheon and signing the parchment, King Robert rolled it up and tied it with a sash. Rising from the table, King Robert put the parchment into Ser Barristan's hands.

"As Lord Commander, you are charged with protecting your King and carrying out his duties without question. Is that so, Ser Barristan?" King Robert growled.

"With my life and to my last breath, Your Grace." Ser Barristan replied.

"Keep this out of prying eyes. Only I know the contents of this decree. If asked, you know nothing of this decree. Understand?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Good." For a moment, there was silence until King Robert asked, "How is my Lord Hand?"

"From Grand Maester Pycelle's reports, the sickness seems to worsen with time. He is still certain that his health would recover. If I may say it, I'm not so easily convinced."

"A knight does not know the ways of healing, only combat and sending his enemies to meet the Stranger." King Robert remarked before a thought came to mind. "Ser Barristan, tell me in plainest truth, what is to happen if Jon does not recover and the Stranger comes to claim him?"

"In plainest truth, you will need a new Hand, Your Grace."

* * *

"You wished to speak with me, Lord Stark?" Mya asked as she entered Lord Stark's private solar, which was as cold as being outside the walls of Winterfell.

"Yes, I did. Please have a seat."

Usually, the solar's hearth would have been still and cold. Eddard Stark found the cold winds to be invigorating and soothing. However, in respect to the young woman who was not accustomed to the cold Northern winds, Ned had a fire set in the hearth.

For a moment that seemed to last an eternity, he did not know exactly what to say first so he just asked one of the more civil questions he could ask a guest.

"How have you found your stay here in Winterfell?" Ned asked.

"Pleasant, though I must say that it's not every day when I get fought into a dress." Mya said gruffly. She had long protested against wearing a dress, saying she never wore one a day in her life back in the Vale.

Sansa argued to her that she would look beautiful in a dress. Mya said they looked prissy. That made Sansa gasp at how much that sounded like what Arya would say. Sansa tried swaying Mya's perception on dressing like a lady but it was to no avail.

Dacey Mormont found a different tactic that worked. "If you can beat me in a sparing match, you can wear whatever you like to supper in the Great Hall. If I beat you, pick the dress you hate the least."

Dacey was kind enough to not strike the face but in the end, Mya Stone was in the Great Hall, wearing one of Sansa's dresses.

"For what it's worth, you looked lovely." Ned said roughly. Complimenting other people was not exactly a skill set he was famous for.

Mya smirked. "With all due respect, Lord Stark, you are known more for your honor than your flattery."

For a long while, though he never spoke one word of it, Ned Stark saw something eerily familiar in Mya Stone. The rebellious fire, the lust for adventure and the striking resemblance, it all added up.

"Lady Mya, what do you know about your father?"

"Less than what everyone else seems to know. No one bothers to say his name or bother to say where he's from. All they seem to say is that I take after him more than my mother."

Ned sighed. "If you truly take after him, it is evident to me."

"How so, my lord?" Mya asked.

"I was once fostered in the Eyrie with another man from the Stormlands. He would become a friend close enough to be called my brother. He too was wild and craved an exciting, adventurous life. It feels like another lifetime ago when he and I were boys under the care of Lord Jon Arryn. Life in the Vale was very different than life in the North."

"Speaking of that, I hoped to ask your permission to venture out into the mountains north of Winterfell. As well, could your sons accompany me as well as Lady Mormont?"

Ned thought about it for a moment. "I will send you with them as well as Tyrell and Bolton. Tyrell will go to speak with House Glover about improving their crops and increasing their harvests. As for Bolton, I must warn you that you will be soon introduced to his father, who is more than concerned for his son not returning directly to the Dreadfort."

"I will keep that in mind, my lord. Thank you."

As she was about to leave, Mya wondered about the close friend Ned made in the Vale while being fostered by Lord Jon Arryn."The other one who was fostered with you? What was his name?"

"Robert of the House Baratheon."

* * *

A/n: Hope I did not lose any readers over the holidays. Hope it turned out alright.


	21. Kith and Kin

Honor & Fealty chapter 21

* * *

"Thank you for coming out here with me. The North is without a doubt more vast than the Vale. I'm sure I would have gotten lost out here by myself." Mya Stone said as she and Jon Snow rode atop a mule and horse respectively. The mountains hugging the inner coast of the body of water between the mainland and Bear Island known as the Bay of Ice were not like those of the Vale. There was more open space and field to travel. The air was cold, crisp, clean and clear.

"You could have asked to ride one of the mares from Winterfell's stables. It would not have been out of taste."

"The mares are good for regular terrain but my mules have been cooped up in Winterfell for too long. They need to get out, stretch their legs, get the feel of mountain terrain back under their hooves and breathe in the fresh air."

"You are very close to your mules."

"No more closer to them than you to your direwolf, I imagine. In the Vale, there are few worth your trust. My mules always watched out for me and I have always cared for each of them. I think I was either born on a mule or conceived astride one."

"I beg pardon for asking out of turn but have you ever known who your parents are?" Jon asked. It was not everyday when he was in the company of another bastard, let alone one from anywhere beyond the North.

Mya looked at Jon for a moment before replying. "My father, he was a very passionate man. I imagine he still is. They say he was a great warrior. I have memories of a great, powerful giant of a man lifting me up into the air with those great hands of his."

"Do you see him often?"

Mya shook her head. "No. I doubt he ever visited the Vale to see me. Then again, being the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm as well as King on the Iron Throne does go a long way in keeping me from openly regarding him as my father."

"King Robert?" Jon asked in surprise.

"If you ever saw him, the resemblance between us in eyes and hair would have given it away. Not that it means a damn thing to anybody. He has never openly acknowledged me or brought me to court." Mya replied with a smirk at Jon's surprised expression. "At least I know I have a father out there and I know where he is. There are times thought when I wonder if he knows where I am right now."

That declaration stopped Jon right there. She was practically echoing the thoughts of his own mind. "Do you not have a mother?"

"I must have had one. When I was in service to House Royce, there were times I would look at my reflection in a looking glass. I would try to look past the family resemblance I inherited from my father so I could try to find something I could have inherited from my mother."

When Jon did not respond or make any sort of retort, Mya looked at him and saw what he was thinking. It was not hard to do since his thoughts were all but drawn upon his face.

"You never knew your mother either?"

Jon shook his head. "Lord Stark, my father, he never speaks of her to anyone, least of all to me. I do not know if she is alive or dead."

"One of the few good thing about being bastards, Jon, is that no one expects you to impress or govern anything. Your brothers and sisters are highborn and Starks. They have a family name and legacy to uphold and continue."

"What would become of me?" Jon asked.

"You have brothers and sisters who count you as one of their own. I don't have that. On that merit alone, I'd say that makes you the luckiest bastard of the realm if there ever was one, Jon Snow. Besides, don't you have that Mormont girl from Bear Island out there waiting for you?"

"Yes, that is true."

'In fact, I think I see her boat right there." Mya said as she pointed out west across the water to a lone boat out in the water. Mya took out a Myrish far-eye from her belt and looked through it to get a better glimpse of Jon Snow's girlfriend.

"She is rather fetching, Jon. Great set of teats on her. Tight body."

"Enough of that, Mya Stone. I won't have you talk that way about Lyra Mormont."

"I'm only saying what you are thinking. One of the perks of being a bastard is that you can talk however you please." Mya said as she handed him the far eye. "Take a look for yourself."

Jon looked through it in time to see Lyra standing tall on the boat, naked as she was when she sucked his cock and when he was on his knees with his face buried between her legs.

"Do you love her, Jon?"

"I do love her, but..."

'Then don't try to talk yourself out of it. You will regret it the rest of your life." Though she was tomboyish and hardened like the mountains of the Vale, Mya Stone had a heart as anyone else. She didn't want to see Jon talk himself out of a chance for happiness.

Jon looked to his direwolf, who seemed to be agreeing with Mya before turning out to the direction of Lyra's boat and letting out a long howl.

* * *

Dacey and Robb were in the middle of training with blunted swords when Rodrik Cassel halted their session. "Lady Dacey, Lord Stark wishes to speak with you in his solar."

Dacey nodded to Winterfell's master-at-arms before relinquishing her training sword to him. "Robb, keep up your training and your studies. I will return soon enough."

Upon arriving at the doors to Lord Stark's solar, Dacey knocked on the door.

"Enter."

Opening the door, she entered to find Lord Eddard Stark sat at his desk.

"Close the door."

Carrying out Lord Stark's order diligently, Dacey stood before him patiently.

"Do you recall the last time I stepped upon Bear Island?"

"Yes, I do. You came for Ser Jorah Mormont's head."

"I found you in the godswood, praying before the heart tree in clothes worn for days. You were a child of twelve if my memory serves me well."

Dacey nodded. "I was angry at Jorah and afraid of what price my house would have to pay for his crimes. I stayed in the godswood praying for mercy to be shown towards my family."

"I never sought for you, your mother or your sisters to pay for Ser Jorah's actions. I hope those fears are no longer an issue for you."

Standing up from his chair, Ned Stark approached the she-bear. "You came to Winterfell in order to aid Robb in becoming the heir to Winterfell and Warden of the North. Since your arrival, his character has changed greatly. He has become more patient and less reckless. He's quick to listen and slow to talk. His studies have improved as well. Should he continue in this way, Robb may prove himself well fit to be the next Warden of the North sooner than I could ever anticipate. I have you to thank for that, Dacey Mormont."

"It is my hope that I can also protect Robb from whatever threats there are beyond the walls of Winterfell."

"What enemies do you think there are out there, Lady Dacey?"

Dacey did not know how to answer that question anymore. Sansa's arguments had shed a harsh light on her prejudices concerning the South and the Southrons who lived beneath the Neck.

"There are those out there who do not care for honor as your house and mine does, Lord Stark. I would not see Robb taken advantage of by false allies and double-faced turncloaks who would stab him in the back for a fistful of gold dragons."

Ned Stark looked at the expression on Dacey Mormont's face and the tone in her voice. It was more than the sentiments of an over-protective banneman or even that of the most faithful sworn guard.

"You love my son. It's not a question. I have known this for a long time. Not in the way you once did when he was a boy. Even I could see it whenever the two of you are together." Ned raised his hand to keep Dacey from attempting to make some hasty explanation. "Do you know how many lords have come to Winterfell with proposals for betrothing Robb to any of their daughters or granddaughters?"

"More than I could dare to count, I imagine." Dacey answered.

Going back to his desk, Ned took a parchment he had drafted in his own hand and gave it to Dacey. "Winterfell is not Bear Island. The ways here are not those you may be accustomed to. Martial skill and experience are not undervalued in Winterfell. By the same note, you must learn that not all problems are solved by sword, shield, spear, mace or might alone."

The realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. Reading the contents, Dacey could not believe what she was reading. "Is this true? I never sought this out before."

"Mayhaps this is why you are meant for it. You did not see a title or a promise of lands and inheritance. You only saw my son and the man he could grow up to be. I believe that can happen with you at his side."

* * *

Bran climbed up to the top of a tree closest to the Pine Line. It had been two days since Arya and Lyanna's scuffle. A difference in perceived duties as the youngest daughters of house and the inevitable prospect of betrothals led to Maege Mormont having to tear the two girls apart and put them up on the Pine Line. Their right arms were extended out to the north and south while their left hands gripped the other's left forearm. Arya and Lyanna had to stay up there in that position, staring at each other for an entire day. Arya Stark and Lyanna Mormont could have climbed down after that but they did not. It became a battle of ego as both girls refused to budge an inch.

"Are you both alright?" Bran asked.

However proud and stubborn they were, Arya and Lyanna were shivering from being exposed to the cold air for so long. "Bran, I have the smell of rancid clothes on me and the sea air mixed with pine in my nose. I'm far from alright."

"Jory once had to stand up here for three days on one foot with her bow in hand, cord drawn, arrow nocked and pointed up to the sky."

"Was she being punished?" Bran asked.

"No. She needed to perfect her balance and focus. It worked out for her, at least by the fifth time." Lyanna spoke with a small grin on her face as she remembered how Jorelle had to catch herself on the branches as she fell four times before getting it right on the fifth try.

Without warning, Arya and Bran's eyes suddenly turned white as their minds flew across the lands towards the bodies of Nymeria and Summer, who were looking out onto the Bay of Ice.

Lyra was rowing back to Bear Island with Jon Snow and Ghost in her boat.

In the blink of an eye, Arya and Bran returned back to their places. However, while Bran was safe on his tree, Arya quickly lost her balance. Moving fast, Lyanna held onto Arya and pulled the both of them both back into their balanced position.

Arya and Bran were astounded at the strength Lyanna had to pull her back up by herself.

"What made you want to warg while we are on the Pine Line?" Lyanna asked. "Did you forget how far up we are?"

"I didn't think about warging. It just happened." Arya gasped between breaths of air.

"Neither did I." Bran said, a bit winded. "I did not think about warging. I did not even know Jon was close by."

"Maybe it was not either of you who knew he was near." Lyanna said as she looked out to the distance. "Your direwolves must have a strong connection with each other. Perhaps Nymeria and Summer sensed your half brother's direwolf."

"Did they warg us into their bodies?" Arya asked in surprise.

"It's not unheard of. I once was in training and inadvertently found myself staring out across the Bay of Ice to the Frozen Shore in time to spot several Wildlings creeping out into Brandon's Gift. Let's go out to greet your half brother." Lyanna said as she and the Stark siblings climbed down the tree.

"How do we control that for ourselves?" Arya asked.

"It is not a matter of controlling them. You can not have dominion over them. That does not work. There must be a communion between you and them. The bears that my sisters and I have bonded with are extensions of ourselves just as your direwolves are extensions of yourselves. There are times that you become an extension of them."

* * *

 _Dearest Cat,_

 _I have stayed with Lord Wyman Manderly and his family for a respite rather than to go have a row with my brother about my place in House Tully. During my time in White Harbor, I have come into all sorts of information regarding guests of the North and family ties hanging by a thread. I will return to Winterfell to discuss these matters further with you and Lord Stark._

 _Ser Brynden 'The Blackfish' of House Tully._

One day after the letter arrived at Winterfell, Ser Brynden Tully and Ser Wendel Manderly arrived with 20 soldiers from White Harbor and Wylla Manderly riding between the two knights.

Ser Wendel and Ser Brynden did not squander time with formalities. Lord and Lady Stark caught on to this immediately and escorted them to the Great Hall.

Upon closing the doors behind them to make sure their conversation was private, Ser Wendel began.

"A long while ago, Lord Hoster Tully called upon me for a private audience. I did not know until my arrival that I was to bear witness to a reappointment in regards to who would succeed him as Lord Paramount of the Riverlands and Lord of Riverrun."

"Reappointment? How is that possible? Edmure is his only son. Lysa is Lady of the Eyrie and I am already Lady of Winterfell. Who else is there to pass Riverrun to?" Catelyn argued.

"There is no other Tully to rule from Riverrun." Ser Brynden answered.

"If such an action was taken, who would be the new appointed successor?" Lord Stark asked objectively.

"Cat, I doubt Edmure is capable to govern the Riverlands or rule from Riverrun as head of House Tully. Hoster may have had him trained and groomed to inherit Riverrun but all the lessons and training in the world can not change a man's character. Edmure is driven by the pursuit of personal glory. In answer to your question, Lord Stark, I do not know."

"This was given to me by Lord Hoster Tully himself." Ser Wendel brought to bear the decree written by Lord Hoster Tully. "Only Lord Hoster Tully himself and the Gods know what is written here. I have not dared to open it. It was not my place to do such a thing. Lady Stark, because you are your father's daughter, you should be the first to read it. Whatever it contains, we shall all find out together."

Catelyn gave no reply as she broke the wax seal and read the contents. While Ned had his 'lord's face' on to hide any emotional response, Catelyn had no such face to wear.

"Uncle, is this true?"

Ser Brynden took the parchment and read the contents. "Damn my brother's stubborn pride. This is why Lord Hoster summoned you to speak with him in private, Ser Wendel." Ser Brynden said as he gave the parchment to the heavy set, bearded knight of White Harbor. "This will cause a political uprising along with drawing attention from King's Landing." Ser Wendel replied as he gave the parchment to Lord Stark.

"Robb is the Heir to Winterfell and the North. How will he rule from two holdfasts and govern two regions at the same time?"

"I have not heard of many other circumstances where any heir received so much, however, I would venture to say that Robb would still inherit the North and Winterfell. As for Riverrun and the Riverlands, they would go to the second born son." Ser Wendel said firmly.

"Gods be good. Bran is still a boy." Catelyn said.

"He may be a child, Cat, but I would sooner entrust Bran with my family's ancestral seat and the Riverlands rather than a glory seeker like your brother." Ser Brynden said firmly.

Out of his peripheral vision, Lord Stark saw Maester Luwin closeby and let out a subtle sigh of relief. "Luwin, prepare a raven immediately for Bear Island. Tell Lady Mormont to have Arya and Bran ready for their return tonight. I want them back at Winterfell before the sun rises over the North."

While Catelyn left with Maester Luwin to see that the messenger raven would be fit for flight and the letter precise and to the point, Ned Stark remained with Brynden Tully and Wendel Manderly.

"The North has begun to yield greater crops than in the past. A lot of that is thanks to Willas Tyrell. We know that and so does everyone south of the Neck, especially Lord Mace Tyrell of Highgarden. My father knows Mace well. That buffoon believes the North to be a vast, cold wasteland. To hear it becoming vibrant with life and yielding great harvests for feeding the North would be a slap in the face to his pride. A great number of smallfolk in the Reach have begun proclaiming Ser Garlan Tyrell as the preferred heir to Highgarden in light of Willas turning away from the Faith. They think it absurd that anyone born in the Light of the Seven would prefer the lifestyle of the Northmen and the gods they keep to." Ser Wendel Manderly explained.

"Given the fool Mace Tyrell is, he will try to put on a show to the smallfolk where he is seen as the pleading father who is trying to get his prodigal son to come home." Ser Brynden said. He also knew that Mace Tyrell's motivation for getting Willas to come home was more to save face than to reconnect with his first born son.

"When he and Tarly return from Karhold, I will speak to Willas Tyrell of these matters."

* * *

The raven flew across the North and the Bay of Ice en route to Mormont Keep on Bear Island.

Maege Mormont was taken aback by the suddenness of the raven's arrival from Winterfell but did not dispute the contents of the message. Lord Stark was calling for the immediate return of Arya and Bran. Whatever was going on, it was serious enough for Lord Stark to write the message himself in his own hand.

Arya and Bran were woken up from their sleep by Jorelle and Lyanna. Nymeria and Summer were quick to rise and go out with their mistress and master as the Mormonts led them to the southern coasts of Bear Island.

"What's happening, Jory?" Arya asked. In the time they spent together, Arya had gotten close enough with Jorelle that she was allowed to call her Jory.

"Your father has called you and Bran back home tonight. More than not, by the time we land at Sea Dragon Point, you'll have a welcoming committee there to receive you."

* * *

It was late at night when Arya and Bran returned to Winterfell. A small meal was given to them before they were put to bed.

In the light of day, when everyone went to the Great Hall to break their fasts, Ned and Catelyn made the announcement.

Dacey, Jon, Theon and Mya dined with Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon while Lord and Lady Stark dined side by side.

When the announcement was made that Robb Stark and Dacey Mormont were betrothed to be married, everyone was elated and ecstatic to hear the news.

Arya, Bran and Rickon were the most animated in their elation as the three of them embraced their future good sister. Jon, while more reserved than his younger siblings, smiled at his brother's good fortune.

When everyone was finished eating their breakfasts, Maester Luwin sent ravens to every great house in the North with news of the betrothal between the heir to Winterfell and the heiress to Bear Island.

Across the North, everyone celebrated upon hearing of the impending marriage between Robb and Dacey. At Castle Black, Lord Commander Jeor Mormont smiled beneath his white beard at the message from Winterfell of his niece marrying Lord Stark's eldest boy.

Maege, Alysane, Lyra, Jorelle and Lyanna were all smiles when they heard the news. Sarea and Beron were just as excited to know that they would be kith and kin to the Starks.

In the Neck, all the crannogmen and their families raised a horn of mead to the good health and fortune of Houses Stark and Mormont.

* * *

A/n: I hope this chapter was worth the wait, that it came out just right and it helps to take the edge off what happened in the Battle of the Bastards. I'm also trying to balance out the other ships in this story. Some of them will pan out. Others will not. Leave a review if you can. Be sure to be polite and use constructive criticism when necessary.

A/n: I'm going off on a limb, so to speak, about the warging. It is meant to show that the bond between the Starks and their direwolves is a two way street.


	22. Eye To Eye

Honor & Fealty chapter 22: Eye To Eye

A/n: This chapter has been long overdue to where even I have been hounding myself into how this chapter would play out and if the story was being told right. A lot of material was written and a lot more was deleted only because it did not push the story in the right direction. I thank you all for your patience and sticking around to see what happens next. I thank as well all the people who reviewed, favorited and followed this story. The constructive criticism and advice has helped me improve this story tremendously. With any luck, this chapter will help set the stage for the next one, which will also be perhaps a bit easier to write.

* * *

"Have you ever wondered why Septas, the Silent Sisters and those poor souls of the Citadel never smile, Ser?"

Varys, though necessary for his discretion and intelligence gathering, was always an annoyance to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy. "I never bothered to think of them. My thoughts are on safeguarding King Robert from all threats to his life."

"Considering how our king has not drowned himself in his chalice, you are fulfilling your duties rather well if I may say so."

"Why have you thought to talk with me, Spider?" Ser Barristan used the name as a way to insult the bald eunuch though it had no desired effect upon Varys, who smiled nonchalantly at him.

"Not so long ago, the king called you alone to a private chamber. Considering how you did not carry the heavy smell of wine and women upon your armor, he was not in his usual state when he spoke with you."

"I'm not one of your birds, Varys. Do not attempt to pull secrets from me."

"I do not seek answers from you. Point in fact, I have come to relay information to you so it can be given to His Grace when he does awake."

"Do not waste my time or test my patience. Say what you will and be on your way."

"Lord Hoster Tully is holding an autumn harvest festival within a few days. One of my birds happened to see a messenger raven fly to the North. No doubt, it's an invitation to his daughter, the Lady of Winterfell. The Golden Rose of Highgarden is attending as representation of House Tyrell to give out food to the huddled masses in preparation for the coming winter."

"Why would this matter to King Robert?"

"I have reason to suspect Lord Stark will send his eldest son and his future good daughter along with his wife. If House Tyrell is sending Lady Margaery to Riverrun, I am fairly certain it is an attempt to call out the wayward Willas Tyrell from the North. If His Grace should find himself in need of sending anything important to Lord Stark's kin, this would be as good an opportunity to do so."

Ser Barristan recalled how King Robert laughed at the idea of a Tyrell toiling in the cold North while in service to the Northmen before going into a blind rage over Dacey Mormont's betrothal to Robb Stark as well as Sansa Stark's betrothal to the Smalljon of House Umber. It did not take a genius to figure out that King Robert's dream of binding Eddard Stark's house to his via marriage had been shattered. Jaime Lannister may have appeared nonchalant but even Ser Barristan saw his eyes laughing at King Robert's tantrum.

"There was talk of an old knight escorting them. Lord Hoster's younger brother, if I am correct."

Ser Barristan frowned at the mention of the Blackfish. While there was no animosity between them, Ser Barristan did not agree with the path Ser Brynden Tully chose for himself. "Why would I care of the Blackfish visiting his niece? The North would be an ideal place for a rebel knight who chose to forsake his house. He lives and speaks like one of them."

"Perhaps that is why he is better received by the Northmen as opposed to you, Ser Barristan. Be sure to tell His Grace all I have told you, won't you?" There was a polite approach in his voice but even Ser Barristan The Bold could distinguish the subtle teasing.

* * *

Five riders left Winterfell by way of the Hunter's Gate on their way to the Riverlands with a party of soldiers from Winterfell.

Ser Brynden Tully rode at the side of his niece, the Lady of Winterfell, Catelyn Stark.

Willas Tyrell rode in between them and the betrothed couple of Dacey Mormont and Robb Stark, who had his faithful direwolf, Grey Wind, at his side

Glancing over her shoulder, Catelyn noticed how close Dacey and Robb were. Even when they were on horseback, there was very little space between them.

"They are young and affectionate with each other. Would you deny them those rare luxuries of life?"

"They are not like Ned and I, uncle."

"Do I detect a hint of envy in your voice, Cat?" Ser Brynden asked objectively, causing Catelyn to silently hush him. "You need not worry. They are too wrapped up in each other to listen to us."

"Dacey Mormont has shown a genuine love and affection for Robb since the day she first held him in her arms. I acknowledge that without any argument. They have been a part of each other's lives. I can understand how that would draw them close."

"So what is bothering you?" Ser Brynden had a good idea what was upsetting his niece but he had to hear it directly from her to know for sure.

"Robb's betrothal to Margaery Tyrell would have joined the Reach and Highgarden to Winterfell and the North. House Mormont of Bear Island may be faithful bannermen to House Stark but they are a poor house with limited means on a small piece of land. What could Dacey Mormont possibly do to strengthen House Stark?"

"More than you can imagine or comprehend, I would imagine." Ser Brynden said firmly.

"Do you have so much faith in House Mormont, uncle?"

"In my life, I have found the Northmen to be of better character than most of the Southrons I have ever met. Is it only because she and her family are poor that you object to the union of wolf and bear?"

"Dacey has shown a genuine love for Robb and the rest of my children over the years. I would embrace her for that without question. What I do question though is how she could show any love or care for Ned's bastard."

"When you are with Lady Dacey Mormont, ask her yourself. I'm certain she will answer your questions truthfully and in her own way."

"Which way is that? I have already been told how the women of House Mormont convey their opinions and points of view."

Ser Brynden raised his hand to stop the cavalcade. At first, Catelyn did not know what to make of his abrupt command to stop until he pointed forward.

The ruins of Moat Cailin stood before them.

"I will go out to speak with Lord Howland Reed. The rest of you are to stay put in Moat Cailin until I return." Ser Brynden announced out loud to the soldiers as well as to Dacey, Willas and Robb.

"You would not have to worry about her telling a false story for your pride. She will not care to soften anything she says to you either. I too know how the women of House Mormont talk. I like it." Ser Brynden said with a smile.

* * *

Sansa was disappointed, downhearted and upset. The Riverlands may not have been King's Landing but she wanted to go there if only to look out into the distance and see the fabled city of kings with her own eyes. It would have been worth it if only to see it from the horizon.

All her pleas fell upon deaf ears though.

Walking through the courtyard with Lady at her side, Sansa watched Bran teaching Samwell Tarly how to fight with spears while Arya was showing off her archery skills with Mya Stone watching.

"What troubles you so, Lady Sansa?" Maester Luwin asked as he approached the red haired girl slowly yet swiftly.

"I wanted to go with Robb and mother to Riverrun. Is the South so terrible as Dacey thinks it is, Maester Luwin?"

"Though the invitation may have suggested a festival, I doubt that is why they are going. Anyway, you have been invited to Last Hearth by your future husband's sisters." Maester Luwin explained, handing Sansa the message sent by raven from Last Hearth. The letter was written in the hands of Alora Umber, speaking for herself and her sister, Avya.

"Why not take Mya Stone with you? She has plans to takie her mules out beyond the walls of Winterfell. The mountains are not far from Last Hearth. I'm sure you would do well with her company."

"I'm certain Father would not deny me that request at all." Sansa said almost in a huff.

* * *

While the Blackfish rode out into the Neck to speak privately with Lord Howland Reed, the rest of the traveling party made camp within the walls of Moat Cailin.

Robb helped Willas down from his horse. Catelyn watched as her eldest son and the Heir to Highgarden talked at a distance while staying in plain sight.

Grey Wind's growl at her side caught her by surprise. Turning to face the direwolf, Catelyn was surprised again at who was standing next to him.

"He is not likely to harm you any more than I am." Dacey remarked as she petted Grey Wind's smoke grey fur. Though the divide between them was vast, Catelyn thought to try and build a bridge between herself and the Heiress to Bear Island. "I hoped to speak with you, Dacey. In light of your impending marriage to Robb, I thought we could get better acquainted. In time, I will soon be your good mother."

"I already have a mother, Lady Stark. She was never a genteel noblewoman nor was she a beauty who inspired songs from bards. Yet I am proud to be the daughter of Lady Maege Mormont. When I marry Robb, we will be related by law. That does not mean I will embrace you as a mother."

"Your approach to conversations still leaves much to be desired. If you are to become the future Lady of Winterfell, I advise you to speak softly. I am not your enemy anymore than you are mine." Catelyn did not care for or like how Dacey spoke. It was the antithesis of everything she had ever been taught in her life.

"While I do not count you as a friend, Lady Stark, I do not count you as an enemy either. If you were the latter, I would have killed you a long time ago." Dacey sighed as if realizing what she had just said out loud. "Lord Stark and Robb have both spoken to me about diplomacy. I need to learn how to cultivate and apply it."

"I agree wholeheartedly." Catelyn said.

"If I am forward and direct with the way I speak to others, including you, it is because I have no tolerance for small talk. On Bear Island, politics mean nothing and diplomacy does not exist when swords are crossed."

"Winterfell is not Bear Island. You will need to change things in yourself if you are to become the next Lady of Winterfell."

"Does that include the company I choose to keep at my side? Your distaste for Jon is no secret to anyone in Winterfell or on Bear Island."

"He is a Snow. Do you not know what his name implies? Have you ever thought of what his existence is to me?"

Dacey gave Catelyn a hard glare. "When I first held him in my arms, I saw a little boy in need of someone to love him. I did not know his name or what it meant to anyone. It was only when Lord Stark and I had returned from Castle Black that he spoke to me about Jon. Then he spoke to me of Jon's mother."

If there ever was something to surprise and infuriate Catelyn, it was the knowledge of Lord Eddard Stark confiding in a seven year old girl what he could not talk about in front of his lady wife. "What did my husband tell you that he could not tell me?"

"She passed away during the Rebellion." Dacey replied. "As for Jon, Lord Stark told me he was a Snow. I did not think less of him then. That has not changed."

"Did he tell you his mother's name? Or who she was in life?" Catelyn asked, her voice barely able to conceal her rage.

"When he spoke of Jon's mother, it was only to say when she died. Lord Stark made mention of a promise he made to her in her final moments. He swore to provide for her son's protection. I asked if he promised to love Jon as one of his own. He only continued to say how he promised to protect Jon." Dacey recalled the pained look in Lord Stark's eyes from long ago. The grief was heavy upon his heart then and time had not lightened it by any measure.

"I did not push him for more information. It would not have changed anything. Instead, I made a promise to Lord Stark. If he could not love Jon, I would love him for the both of us."

"Dacey Mormont, if you choose to show care or affection for Jon, that is your decision. You look at him and all you see is a boy with a kind heart. I see something completely different whenever I look at Jon Snow. His continued existence serves only as a reminder that, for one time, Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell was not completely honorable. Having to watch Jon Snow grow alongside my children as if one of them only tells me that, somewhere in Westeros, there was a woman my husband loved more than me. Ned and I were strangers. I was meant to marry his brother, Brandon, had he lived. He did not. For the sake of bolstering their numbers and cementing allegiances during war time, I was married to Ned. We grew to love one another over the years. You and Robb are not strangers. Since the moment you first held him in your arms, the two of you have been a part of each other's lives."

"We both love Robb. We can agree on that." Catelyn asked.

Dacey nodded. "We both do not want to see him lose his way. I guess we can both agree on that." Catelyn nodded in accordance.

Dacey Mormont and Catelyn Stark would never see each other as friends. Whether they liked it or not, they would soon become family.

* * *

Ser Brynden Tully and Lord Howland Reed looked out into the Riverlands while hidden by the thick shrubbery of the Neck's marshlands.

"How long have they been there?" Ser Brynden asked.

"They arrived one day before you and your party. I think they are expecting you." Lord Howland Reed replied. "There is even talk of Margaery Tyrell being there with him. She is a rather comely young maiden."

Brynden laughed softly. "She is young enough to be one of your children, Lord Reed. I doubt as well that Mace Tyrell would embrace the idea of his only daughter becoming the Lady of the Neck."

"I never once entertained the thought. I'm more concerned with what is going to happen when you and your party arrive at Riverrun."

"Edmure might be the only son of Lord Hoster Tully but he is not fit to be the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands much less stand as the Lord of Riverrun and I'm saying this as a blood relative. At the same time, I'm curious as to why my brother would decide to hand over the Riverlands and Riverrun to his grandson."

"He was born in Riverrun so he has a mild claim to it. I imagine the modesty, resolve and discipline nurtured into the Stark bloodline over many generations would go a long way to making them the ideal choice for governing the North and the Riverlands."

"I do not even know if Edmure knows it by now." Ser Brynden knew well enough that the change of inheritance would not go well with his nephew. There was a good chance that someone would be branded with the horrible mark of 'kinslayer' before it was all said and done.

"Go back to Lady Stark, her son, Tyrell and Mormont. Tell them I will clear a way for them to get through the Neck to the Riverlands. Did you, Robb and Dacey bring your weapons?"

"Yes."

"Good. I doubt you will need them against the Freys or Renly Baratheon's party but it's good to have them all the same."

* * *

A/n: I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Coming soon, the traveling party comes to the Crossing while on the road to Riverrun. Stay tuned.


	23. Down South

Honor & Fealty chapter 23

* * *

Living north of the Wall, it almost becomes second nature to tell when something bad was going to happen. Life was hard enough just holding on to whatever you were lucky enough to find and ruthless enough to keep.

Osha left the company of Mance Rayder when he started bringing together clans and factions who normally would have killed each other for no more reason than being in the same area or in coveting whatever the other had at the time. His campaign had become too much for them to handle and being so close to so many feuding peoples only made an internal conflict that much more volatile. She and her man, Bruni, took off and lived together in a small hut far from Rayder's camp and far from the Wall.

In the time they had together, Osha and Bruni were content and safe. No one came after them and they did not have to fret over who would come to take what was theirs.

The end came when Bruni vanished for days on end. Osha did not believe he had it in him to leave her. That was impossible.

Impossible would soon become a word Osha would never say again when he returned with pale skin, vivid blue eyes and the stench of death upon his body.

A knife through the heart did not make him blink or bleed. By a miracle, Osha escaped the vice grip of what once was her man, grabbed a torch and set both him and the hut on fire.

Without looking back, Osha ran out into the dark night. The cold in front of her and the fading heat behind her only fueled her need to run further away from a place she once thought to be a safe haven.

Then she saw an enormous bear with dark black fur streaked with grey stood before her like a giant. It did not growl at her once. It stared at her with a puzzled expression in its eyes.

Osha tried to run away but did not get far as the bear reached out, closing the distance between them, caught her and slammed her to the ground.

One paw swipe to the head and she was plunged into darkness.

* * *

Catelyn Stark and Dacey Mormont did not speak to each other for a while. Both women were strong willed and stubborn as the day is long. Catelyn did not like how Dacey spoke to her and yet she sensed that the younger woman's words were spoken in blind anger.

In the silence, Dacey saw the folly in her words. In a blind rage, she had threatened the lady wife of Lord Stark and Robb's mother. In spite of whatever else she may have felt, Dacey could not allow herself to disgrace her house through losing her temper.

"I should never have spoken to you as I did. I make no excuse for it. I can only ask forgiveness."

Catelyn listened carefully to both Dacey's words and her voice. There was no facade being put on for the sake of getting into her good graces. It was genuine humility, regret and contrition."You spoke out of anger. Learn from this. In all fairness, I too know how it is like to lose one's temper. Your outburst is forgiven." Catelyn replied. "Though I now have to wonder whether or not I have to worry about your temper before we cross into the Riverlands. If you are serious about going to Riverrun with us, lay to rest your prejudices against the South here and now. Otherwise, I will have to send you back to Winterfell."

Grey Wind gave a whine before nudging Dacey's arm as if in a show of support and encouragement. Running her fingers through Grey Wind's fur, Dacey took a brief moment to gather her thoughts. Once she did, everything came out.

"For my whole life, I was told what the Andals have done in their attempts to put the First Men to heel or extinction. I also heard of how the South looks upon the North. They think of us as uncivilized savages and uncultured barbarians. I think the Southrons are either arrogant snobs, greedy swindlers, cold blooded schemers or murderous turncloaks loyal only to themselves. When Jorah began selling poachers to slavers in order to afford his wife's lavish upbringing, my faith in him was broken and everything I had ever felt about the South was confirmed. Everything south of the Neck became the epitome of evil in my eyes. Everyone who was of the South was my enemy."

Catelyn began to understand the influence of terrible memories and worse histories had on Dacey. While it was admirable for Dacey to possess such devotion to the North and her people, Catelyn saw the dangers of having a hard-lined Northern woman succeed her as Lady of Winterfell if her approach to quelling problems involved a mace and knowing who was born on which side of the Neck. "I am not Lynesse Hightower nor do I ever hope to bear any resemblance to her. Thus I am not your enemy. Whether or not you can bring yourself to believe me is up to you. I have embraced life in the North. I have not made any attempts to cut down weirwood trees or supplant the Seven in place of the Old Gods. Most of all, I have never thought of bringing ruin to House Stark." Dacey let out a small sigh at the sense in what Catelyn was telling her. Even though she did not like hearing it, there was no argument she could cast against it.

"Not every person who lives in the South wants to kill, mock or steal from the Northmen. The days of the Andal invasions are over. Have you ever seen the Riverlands during the summer? There's many great places for fishing and swimming. The waters are not as cold as those in the Bay of Ice and those who live in the Riverlands are not as terrible as you may think they are."

"I'm about to be a stranger in an unfamiliar place with people I do not know. That is usually enough to make me keep my guard up."

"When I married Ned and moved into the North, I felt far away from home and farther away from my family than I had ever been in my whole life."

Dacey caught on to where the conversation was going. "A lifetime of fighting and killing in defense of my family and homeland does little to help me socially. On Bear Island, I could tell friend from foe. I do not like going to a place where I can not tell the difference."

"If you can improve in your ways, you will not have to worry about discerning friend from foe. If what my father has done holds true, Robb may stand to rule both the North and the Riverlands. Should it come to that, you may have to accept both Northmen and Rivermen as your countrymen."

Dacey frowned as she processed all Catelyn told her. While it was hard to hear, it was all true. "When we cross the Neck, I will be polite and cordial until someone decides to give me a sufficient reason not to be either."

Catelyn looked over Dacey's bear cloak and how it covered what she wore beneath. "I never asked what you chose to wear."

Dacey opened up her cloak to reveal her garment clad body to her future good mother. "Sansa helped me choose this. It is simple enough that I could be comfortable, move about freely and it represents my house." The dress was simple yet well made enough to impress. Black against vivid forest green; these were the colors of House Mormont. The sword and mace that hung by her sides were not lost on Catelyn. "We are not going to war. If you need them, keep your weapons on your mare. I doubt you will need to use them."

It was only after Dacey put her weapons away did Catelyn notice how her future good daughter's bosom was filling up her dress very generously to where she was almost spilling out of it. Dacey looked down at her chest before turning her attention back to her future good mother. "Sansa and I had to adjust the dress before we left Winterfell. It was getting rather tight...again."

Dacey glanced down at her chest once before looking up at Catelyn. "Am I going to cause a scene if I arrive in the Riverlands like this?"

"It's not uncommon for young ladies in the South to wear low cut garments. Just remember to conduct yourself properly and control your temper." Catelyn replied while trying to take her mind off how big Dacey's bust had grown.

"I will." Dacey may not have liked the South very much or at all but she would do whatever she had to for Robb's sake and to preserve the honor for both House Mormont of Bear Island and House Stark of Winterfell.

* * *

Maester Aemon stood alongside his stewards before the grove of weirwood trees. Though he did not keep to the Old Gods of the Forest, the old man appreciated the serenity and silence. But that was not why he was out there. Taking a few steps forward and kneeling down slowly, Maester Aemon placed his hand upon a spot neither far nor close to the weirwood trees.

"Maester Aemon, we must go now." From the sound in Chett's voice, he was afraid.

"Do not bother. I know who it is. Prepare the cart for our return to Castle Black."

While Chett and Clydus went on ahead, Maester Aemon rose back to his feet and approached the large bear. "It's not like you to bring a stray home." One growl from the bear caused the old maester to grin. "I would not dare to think you would so blatantly forsake your vows."

Crouching down to the ground, the bear allowed Maester Aemon to climb up onto his back alongside the unconscious wilding woman.

Chett and Clydus rode upon a horse drawn cart while Maester Aemon and an unknown wildling woman rode upon the back of a large black bear. All the way to the Wall, no one spoke a word.

The light of day coated everything in blinding white. In contrast, the darkness of the tunnel was such that the acolytes needed torches to see their way through.

The bear stopped halfway through the tunnel, allowing for Maester Aemon to climb down. Chett dealt with moving the woman while Clydus helped Aemon to the cart.

Upon their return to Castle Black, the bear had transformed into a man.

"You would do well with your cloak and clothes, Lord Commander. We would not want you to catch your death of cold." Maester Aemon said as Jeor Mormont took his cloak and clothes from Clydus. "Place her in the cells. See that no harm comes to her." Maester Aemon instructed.

* * *

When Ser Brynden returned to Moat Cailin, he took Catelyn to the Children's Tower to speak privately while Dacey and Grey Wind walked over to Robb Stark and Willas Tyrell.

"Is everything alright between you and Lady Stark?" Willas Tyrell asked for both himself and Robb, who had his eyes on Dacey's face the whole time. "We spoke very openly with each other. It's not going to happen right away but we are not going to declare war upon each other."

Robb put his hand on Dacey's shoulder. "Did my mother speak to you about how to behave when we cross the Neck?"

Dacey nodded. "I will behave properly for the honor of my house and the sake of yours. Somehow, I feel it may be easier said than done."

"Lady Mormont, you will not be alone. You have Grey Wind, Robb Stark and I, for whatever my presence is worth, to stand at your side."

"For what it is worth, I do appreciate the offer." Dacey replied.

"If it is not too forward of me, I need to ask you about something rather delicate."

"How delicate is it?" Dacey asked.

"I have thought about potentially taking a lady wife but I have no place to call my own apart from Highgarden."

Dacey looked at Willas with surprise. She did not expect to have such a conversation with Willas Tyrell or any of such a personal matter. "Which young lady do you have your eyes set upon?"

"Alys Karstark. She has always been kind to me but I do not know what I can give her when I have only the clothes on my back along with the horses, hawks and hounds I breed and train."

"If you are the heir to Highgarden, why do you worry about what you can offer as a dowery?" Robb asked.

"I left home against the wishes of my father and grandmother. I have also turned my back on the Seven by embracing the Old Gods. Those actions are not easily forgotten or pardoned in the eyes of my father or the smallfolk of the Reach." Willas had no illusions about what was going to happen if he ever saw any members of his family again.

"Alys and I may be very distant relatives but I'm certain resolve would go a long way in making an impression with her. The question you have to answer for yourself is what matters most. What your father thinks or who you want to be."

When Ser Brynden and Catelyn returned, it was not lost on Dacey or Robb how they both looked very somber. "Mother, is everything alright?" Robb asked.

"Mount your horses and prepare yourselves. We are crossing over into the Riverlands." Ser Brynden ordered before Catelyn could answer.

Had she been given the opportunity to open her mouth, the conversation she had with her uncle would have spilled out, which would have been disastrous for all of them.

* * *

Lord Commander Jeor Mormont walked into the ice cells with a bowl of hot stew. There were few who ever lived after crossing paths with a Crow north of the Wall. Fewer were ever not hostile when meeting a Crow.

The guards keeping watch of their 'guest' opened the doors for the Old Bear who entered the cell. "What happened out there to you?"

She did not speak; her hunger overwhelmed any need for discussion. Jeor Mormont grinned slightly at the woman slurping and gulping the stew heartily. "Even out on the edge of the world, Three Finger Hobb certainly knows how to make a good stew. Kept us fed enough to survive out here at least."

Licking her chops, the woman looked at the old man with awe laced with disbelief. "How did you...What are you?"

"A man of the Night's Watch who, by all rights, would have had reason to kill you. Instead, I provide food and shelter. Do you have a name?"

"None that I would tell a Crow, even one like you."

"I'm not surprised to hear such a thing from a Wildling, even if I did save your life." Jeor Mormont replied gruffly. "What were you running from?"

"Things beyond what you Southerners could imagine."

"You underestimate my imagination greatly." Looking at her bed, Jeor turned to the guards and ordered them to fetch a proper blanket for the woman. "I have no reason to kill you. In truth, I do not know what to do with you. Considering how I saved your life, your fate is now my responsibility. We'll talk again soon."

A moment ago, she did not think of sharing her name with a Crow. A moment later...

"Osha. My name is Osha."

Jeor looked at Osha for a moment. "It is good to meet you, Osha."

* * *

The crannogmen of the Neck were unlike those above and beneath the dense marshlands. Their ways were pecuiliar in the North and inhuman to the South. One could fight a crannogmen for days without ever seeing them.

They watched carefully as the Blackfish led his traveling party through the causeway. There was no malcontent aimed at the heirs of Winterfell, Bear Island and Highgarden.

Meanwhile, a pack of lizard lions began the long trek down the Green Ford en route to the Crossing.

* * *

A/n: It has been a long time coming for this chapter. I was itching to get this posted and I hope it came out just right. Thank you very much for your patience, dear readers, and to those who took the time to review, thank you as well. The feedback has helped to improve the story where it was needed. In the next chapter, I hope to dive right into the Riverlands, introducing Baratheon, Tyrell and whoever/whatever else comes into play. Who else is wondering what the Blackfish told Catelyn in secret?


	24. On The Road To Riverrun

Honor & Fealty chapter 24

A/n: I'm back! One of the biggest worries I had (among many others) was that this chapter did not have enough material. Another was the length. I thought it was too short and then I thought it was too long. With any luck, this chapter is well worth the wait. Thank you for your patience and understanding. I still have a long way to go. For now, enjoy the latest chapter of Honor & Fealty.

* * *

As the Stark traveling party approached the northern keep of the Twins, they were met with an ostentatious and overtly lavish display of wealth and indulgence. The smells of baked breads, rich wines, cheeses, meats, fish and poultry from the Stormlands filled the air as did the scent of vegetables and fruits from the Reach. Elaborate tents and grand banners flying the stag of Baratheon and the golden rose of Tyrell flew in the wind at both sides of the entrance to the Northern keep of the Twins. Handmaidens, cupbearers, squires, bards, servants and jesters were scattered about as they went about doing their chores. At a distance from the lords and ladies, who were watching knights spar against one another in a public display of their martial prowess, a table was set where the smallfolk ate what was offered to them as token of goodwill and charity.

"Does this happen in the South often?" Dacey asked the Blackfish as she eyed the activity unwinding before her eyes. Robb did not have to voice his opinion; Dacey could tell it was the same as hers from the look on his face. The wealthy were rich in gold and insatiable in their vanity and self-elation.

"When a certain house is close knit to the Iron Throne, it is not uncommon for them to flaunt what they have." Ser Brynden grumbled. He was not much for pomp and ceremony when it was for vanity's sake.

"Brace yourself, Lady Mormont. We are about to get a whole lot of smoke blown up our backsides by complete strangers." Willas Tyrell knew all too well how the South would flaunt their opulence and overplay their public goodwill.

No one in the Stark party expected or desired to draw attention to themselves. Thus it did not fail to surprise them when the festivities halted immediately and everyone stopped whatever they were doing to turn their undivided attention to the traveling party from the North.

"Lady Stark, your presence breathes life anew to the lands of your birth. The peoples of the Reach and the Stormlands welcome you and yours into our company."

"Lord Baratheon. To what do we owe such a welcoming party?" Catelyn inquired while remaining gracious and soft spoken. The youngest brother to King Robert clearly wanted to make his presence known from smallfolk to nobility.

In an effort to refine her diplomacy and manner of conduct, Dacey silently watched how Catelyn spoke with the Lord of Storm's End. It was a great demonstration of patience and poise as even Dacey could see how Renly Baratheon's voice was raised so as for everyone, especially the smallfolk, would have to hear him. "Happenstance and the will of the Gods have allowed our paths to cross. We were on our way to Riverrun and thought to pass through the Crossing." Renly replied with a bright smile.

"Then the Gods do move in ways beyond our own understanding. For the longest time, I thought it was nothing more than empty rhetoric." Brynden Tully retorted sharply. "I can only imagine whether or not you have had the privilege of trading banter with Lord Walder Frey and his elk."

"Like many of us here today, Ser Tully, this will be a day of firsts. King Robert's word goes far but even then, I venture to guess that the welcoming party on the other side of the Crossing will not be as pleasant as mine."

In an effort to quell the tension rising between her uncle and Lord Renly, Catelyn introduced her son and her future good daughter Lord Renly, who smiled at the Heirs of Winterfell and Bear Island.

"It is a privilege to meet a noble son of Lord Eddard Stark. Our houses have been allies and friends since the days of our ancestors. From Orys Baratheon and Brandon the Builder to my brother and your father, it has been House Baratheon in the South and House Stark in the North that held the realm together. If fortune continues to favor us, it is my hope that the union of stag and wolf endures well into the future." Renly spoke as if he were talking to a starstruck boy from the fields. Little did he know that Robb was not moved by his ostentacous praise. "I would welcome such a friendship, Lord Baratheon." Robb spoke with a firm voice yet knew to not sound patronizing or sarcastic.

Turning to the fair skinned, raven haired beauty with forest green eyes, Renly grinned cordially. "Robb Stark is a fortunate wolf to have been betrothed with such a fair maid as yourself. I present my betrothed. The Golden Rose of Highgarden, Lady Margaery of House Tyrell. Who knows? Gods be good, she will be the Queen of Westeros at my side."

* * *

Margaery, who stood at the side of her betrothed the whole time he spoke, had never met Robb Stark before. Therefore, it was not disheartening to see him with a woman other than herself. Nevertheless, seeing Robb Stark in person, Margaery saw the calculated strategy of her grandmother in regards to the betrothal that would have been. Even though it would have taken longer, the union of wolf and rose would lead to the Red Keep and the Iron Throne. An honorable wolf and a well learned rose at his side would keep the right the realm and keep the Tyrells in power. The might of the North and the Reach would have served to protect and feed the realm for generations.

Instead, she was set to marry King Robert's youngest brother while the Young Wolf's intended was a Northern woman 6 years older than both him and herself. The difference in age did not move her at all. If anything, it only sparked a curiosity in her.

Loras did not care for the Northerners at all. They held none of the interests or ambitions he possessed. House Stark and House Mormont followed the Old Gods, thus they did not hold any value in knighthood. Nevertheless, he was mystified as to why Lord Stark would wed his eldest son to a grown maid rather than the maiden daughter of Mace Tyrell, Warden of the South. House Mormont was not unknown to the Tyrells, thus he knew they had limited means and the lands of Bear Island were not the best for growing much of any crops.

A growl from Grey Wind instantly caught the attention of everyone. It scared many of the southern ladies and shocked the southern lords that such a beast was allowed to roam free in the company of the heir to Winterfell and the heiress to Bear Island. Dacey spoke up for the direwolf. "This is Grey Wind, close companion to Robb Stark. Fear not. He does not seek to harm anyone who approaches in peace and with respect."

A laugh from Renly broke through the fearful moment. "My lords and ladies, calm yourselves. It is not everyday one sees a creature of legend and myth in the light of day. There's no need for banners when your sigil lives and breathes at your side. This will certainly be a story worth telling over drinks and at your hearths to your children and friends."

While Loras was taken aback at the sight of the direwolf, Margaery was emboldened to step forward. "Would Grey Wind allow me to approach, Lady Mormont?"

"Sister, this creature is not a fawn from the woods or a new born lamb. It's a wild, feral beast capable of felling anything in its path." Loras said as he stepped between his sister and the direwolf, who growled at the southern pansy's insipid attitude.

"Loras, I know you mean to protect our sister but this direwolf has not pounced upon anyone. If Lord Stark and Lady Mormont deems Grey Wind to be without ill intent, Margaery will not be harmed." Willas Tyrell said as he and his brother stared at each other harshly.

"Fear not, Lady Tyrell. Grey Wind will not strike you if you approach in peace as my betrothed expressed." Robb spoke up for his direwolf and Dacey while trying to defuse the mounting tension between the Tyrell brothers.

With everyone watching, Margaery approached Grey Wind and ran her fingers through the smokey grey fur as it caressed her skin. "He may have appear fearsome but he is gentle when in the presence of friends and those he trusts." Dacey stated in an attempt to exert diplomacy and decorum.

Looking up at Dacey Mormont, Margaery was slightly shaken at the fierce gaze set upon her. There was a great strength in her; one that was not seen in even ten knights of summer. "Lady Dacey Mormont. It is my pleasure to meet you at last. I wish you and your betrothed many years of good fortune and peace."

"It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Lady Margaery Tyrell." In a move that surprised Catelyn and impressed Robb, Dacey accepted Margaery's offered hand as a show of friendship and civility.

In spite of her sentiments of the South, Dacey reluctantly admitted that Margaery was graceful and better spoken than what she imagined. Nevertheless, old memories and old scars lingered in her mind. _She is not Lynesse Hightower. Until she proves herself to be untrustworthy, do not lash out or strike her down. The honor of House Mormont and that of House Stark are both in your hands._

"Is this your first visit to the Riverlands, Lady Mormont?"

Dacey nodded. "Until now, I have never been further south than the Neck. I am more accustomed to the cold winter winds than I am to a summer breeze." Despite whatever feelings she had before for the young maiden from the Reach, Dacey could not find it in herself to be angry or spiteful against Margaery. The young girl had not done anything to warrant any contempt. It was only when they met did Dacey really understand that. "Good friends and pleasant company can make a barren land look like a lush garden." Margaery smiled as her words brought a smile to Dacey Mormont's face. It was only when the Tyrell brothers began talking that things took a hard left turn.

"It's been some time since we last saw one another, Lord Renly. I am amazed at how so much can change without warning." Willas Tyrell was no fool. He knew full well what was going on. With Loras being fostered in Storm's End and serving as squire to Lord Renly Baratheion along with Margaery's betrothal to Renly Baratheon, the Tyrells stood a strong chance of climbing upon the Iron Throne or, at the very least, holding sway over the man who would be king.

"It has been too long since these lands were graced with you presence, Willas Tyrell. Your father has spoken with me on many occasions of you."

"I have always kept you in my heart and in my prayers, dear brother." Margaery said.

Once her hand was released from Dacey's, Margaery approached her eldest brother. Willas took her hand in his and held it gently. "And you in mine, dear sister."

"How has life among the Northmen treated you? The first snows have not fallen and here you are. Have you seen the folly of your choice of actions?" Loras had lost whatever self control he had as his temper boiled over.

Willas had his eyes fixed on his youngest brother and yet his words were aimed to his sister. "If you listen carefully enough, my dear sister, you will hear our father cursing at me through our brother's tongue." With a reassuring hold on Margaery's hand, Willas cast his full attention to Loras. "In unconditional service to others without the ambition for title or rank, I have found a peace and satisfaction I have never known before."

"Satisfaction? Willas, you and I are brothers but you have taken leave of your senses long enough." Loras snapped. "Have you no sense of shame or remorse in the humiliation you have brought upon our family or the ill repute in betraying the Faith of the Seven?"

"I feel no shame or remorse in my decisions. They were mine alone to make."

"Come home, brother. The Warden of the South is not unforgiving. I could give aid to you in renewing your faith to the Seven and your commitment to Highgarden."

Willas stared at his youngest brother with an unreadable expression. Deep within his heart, the Heir of Highgarden prayed that his face and voice did not betray what he was shown in the godswood. "When you see our mother, tell her I am well cared for by the Northmen, who have embraced me as a friend rather than a servant."

Without asking for leave, Loras turned his back to his eldest brother and walked away. The resounding silence was too much for Renly or anyone else to endure. Thankfully, the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands had a way to counter such an awkward inconvenience.

"If it can be considered an act of friendship, I offer care to your horses and my hospitality to you all. As another show of the ties that bind us, I invite you to cross the Twins with us as we venture forth to Riverrun."

"We gladly accept, Lord Renly." In light of the blatantly hostile banter between the Tyrell brothers, a bit of benevolent hospitality was not something to overlook or cast aside.

* * *

Deep in the Isle of Faces, a dark brown owl gazed out past the shrubbery of the heart trees to the gathering of Southerns and Northerns. One person caught its attention; the man with the lame leg leaning upon his sister for aid.

The owl turned his head to the carved faces of the heart trees, hooted four times and bowed in reverence. With wings spread, the owl took flight and departed from the presence of the Old Gods, soaring past the ruins of Harrenhal towards the Twins.

* * *

A/n: I got no excuses for the stall. You all know what has happened since late 2016, not counting the obstacles I have had to overcome in my personal life. I will not get into that now or ever. Suffice to say, I'm back. I have not abandoned this story. Even when I have had deep conversations with those who argue my stance on the entire purpose of my writing this. I do not mean to drag things out. With things turning out the way they have in this chapter, I have to push the inevitable Frey meeting to chapter 25. I will also have to take a moment to see if I can write Lord Walder Frey without cursing at him after every second syllable. Wish me luck.


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